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SLOAN 

By     HIMSELF 


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3   9090  013 


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419   126 


TOD  SLOAN 


Webster  Family  Library  of  Veterinary  Medicine 
Cummings  School  of  Veterinary  svledicine  at 
Tufts  University 
200  Westboro  Road 
Nort;nGrafiGn,MA01538 


In  1900 

Afr  last  English  photograph 


TOD   SLOAN 


BY 

HIMSELF 

EDITED    BY 

A.  DICK   LUCKMAN 

AUTHOR   OF    "sharps,    FLATS,    GAMBLERS    AND   RACEHORSES' 


^ 


WITH  THIRTY-TWO  ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW  YORK 

BRENTANO'S 

MDCCCCXV 


PRINTED    IN   GREAT    BRITAIN    BY 
THE    RIVERSIDE    PRESS    LIMITED,    EDINBURGH 


TO 

MY    FRIEND 

FRANK   C.  JACOTT 

WHOSE   SYMPATHY   AND    ENCOURAGEMENT 

IN    MANY   TRYING    MOMENTS 

WILL   BE   A    LASTING 

MEMORY 


July   1915 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  TOD  Sloan's  reminiscences 

II.  MAKING  BAD   AS   A  JOCKEY 

III.  "  MONKEY   ON   THE   STICK  "    IN   PRACTICE 

IV.  START  IN   NEW  YORK 

V.  w.  c.  Whitney's  liberality 

VI.  FIRST   trip   to    ENGLAND 

VII.  TALKS   WITH    LORD    WILLIAM    BERESFORD 

VIII.  SECOND    IMPRESSIONS    OF   ENGLAND 

IX.  A  GLORIOUS   WIND-UP 

X.  HOLIDAY  INCIDENTS 

XL  SOMETHING   ABOUT   CLOTHES 

XII.  THE   LATE   KING   EDWARD  . 

XIII.  NUNSUCH's   CAMBRIDGESHIRE 

XrV.  A   PERIOD   OF  SUCCESS 

XV.  TRAINERS — ^AND   TRAINERS 

XVI.  ENGLAND   AND   AMERICA  . 

XVII.  KNIGHT   OF  THE   THISTLE 

XVIII.  HOLOCAUST 

XIX.  FLYING  FOX  AND   CAIMAN 

XX.  JOCKEYS    AND    JOCKEYSHIP 

XXI.  THE   BIG   PLUNGER 


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Vll 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XXII.    A   VISIT   TO   AMERICA    . 
XXIII.    THE   ASCOT  INCIDENT  . 

XXIV.  merman's  gold  cup  . 

XXV.    CODOMAN 
XXVI.    DARK  CLOUDS 
XXVII.    NABOT 
XXVIII.    AT   THE    TRAPS 
XXIX.    "  SLOAN's   chance   HOPELESS 
XXX.    DOPE  . 
XXXI.    MY  MARRIAGE 
XXXII.    HOPE    DEFERRED 

XXXIII.  THE   THEODORE    MYERS   STABLE 

XXXIV.  SOME   MINOR   SUCCESSES 
XXXV.    MY  DOG   PIPER 

XXXVI.  A   LITTLE   FIGHTING       . 

XXXVII.  MAKING   A    BOOK 

XXXVIII.  SUGGESTIONS    . 

XXXIX.  PRACTICAL  JOCKEYSHIP 

XL.  MORE   SUGGESTIONS 

XLI.  FINIS  . 


PAGB 

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297 

305 


Vlll 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


In  1900  ...... 

Tod  Sloan:  From  Spy's  Caricature  in  "Vanity  Fair" 

Mr  Charles  F.  Hanlon  . 

George  E.  Smith  :  "  Pittsburg  Phil  "   . 

Lord  Marcus  Beresford  and  Mr  Richard  Marsh 

King  Edward — then  Prince  of  Wales — driving 
at  Newmarket 

My  First  Year  in  England 

Beaten  on  Caiman  by  Flying  Fox 

Winning  the  Jubilee  on  Knight  of  the  Thistle 

In  King  Edward's  Colours 

Lord  William  Beresford  on  the  Road  to  Epsom 

Lester  ReifF        .... 

Johnny  ReifF      .... 

Returning  to  Scale  after  Merman's  Gold  Cup 

Walter  Davis       .... 

"The  Flying  Bird"  and  Tod  Sloan     . 

Prince  Poniatowski  and  Tod  Sloan 

M.  Charron's  First  Lesson  in  Riding    . 

Rose  de  Mai       .... 

Lord  Carnarvon  and  Tod  Sloan  at  Longchamps 

Miss  Julia  Sanderson 

At  the  Carlton  Hotel,  Nice 

The    First   Time   an   Aeroplane   carried    Four 
People      .... 

After  the  St  Moritz  Annual  Billiard  Tournament 


Frontispiece 

To  face  page       10 

>>    ))    -^^ 

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96 

100 

132 

132 

142 

144 

146 
160 

176 

182 

206 

211 

215 

218 

224 

231 

241 


1) 


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248 
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IX 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


Shooting  Clay  Pigeons  at  St  Moritz    . 

With  my  Dog,  Piper,  at  St  Moritz      . 

In  Algiers  .... 

Mr  Theodore  Myers's  Training  Quarters 

Working  for  the  Ambulance 

Two  Pirates  :  Milton  Henry  and  Tod  Sloan 

"Henry"  .  .  .  • 

A  Hospital  Garden  Scene 

My  Editor  .... 


To  face  page     256 

„  „        258 

.,         272 

„         274 

276 

278 

279 
302 
306 


>> 


INTRODUCTION 

For  many  years  I  have  had  a  wish  to  collect  the 
incidents  of  Tod  Sloan's  life.  The  opportunity  never 
seemed  to  arrive.  However,  with  the  strenuous  times 
of  the  Great  War,  and  soon  after  Paris  had  been  threatened 
by  a  German  occupation,  I  found  my  chance. 

There  is  a  double  purpose  in  writing  Sloan'' s  life.  I 
had  heard  him  telling  so  many  good  stories  about  himself, 
and  about  others,  that  I  thought  it  would  be  a  pity  that 
they  should  be  lost  to  the  present-day  public  and  to  future 
generations.  I  was  sure  too  that  many  phases  of  his 
career  would  typify  life  preceding  1915,  and  that  this  book 
might  be  as  interesting  in  the  years  to  come  as  it  is  to-day 
to  those  who  kfiow  Sloan  personally. 

Tod  Sloan  is  one  of  the  best-known  individualities  in 
Paris,  London,  New  York  and  other  great  cities.  He 
has  been  caricatured  by  the  best- known  artists,  and  written 
about  in  newspapers,  magazines  and  books.  His  career 
has  been  such  a  varied  one  that  even  a  single  chapter  of 
his  life  could  be  elaborated  without  undue  padding  into 
a  most  readable  volume.  My  endeavour  has  been  to  get 
Sloan  to  recount  the  story  of  his  life  in  chronological  order, 
at  the  same  time  not  missing  little  sidelights  and  stories 
which  cropped  up  as  we  went  along,  and  which  could  be 
inserted  here  and  there  without  breaking  off  the  story. 

There  are  certain  things  which  I  can  say  about  Sloan 
which  he  is  too  diffident  to  allude  to  himself  except  in  the 
barest  fashion.  Years  ago  in  The  Daily  Express  in  a 
series  of  articles  I  endeavoured  to  lead  an  appeal  to  the 
stewards  of  the  Jockey  Club  for  the  renewal  of  Sloan's 

xi 


INTRODUCTION 

licence,  but  unfortunately  it  came  to  nothing.  One  head- 
ing I  remember  began  "  There  should  be  no  such  thing  as 
a  life  sentence.^''  In  those  words  is  the  gist  of  the  whole 
matter.  If  has  always  seemed  incredible  that  after  years 
of  punishment  Sloan  should  not  be  reinstated.  It  is 
not  so  much  a  qu£stion  whether  he  would  be  able  or  would 
want  to  ride  again.  It  is  rather  that  a  stigma  is  attached 
to  a  great  artist  in  riding  when  an  intimation  is  given  to 
him  that  he  must  not  apply  for  a  licence  for  it  would  be 
refused.  Two  wrongs  don^t  make  a  right,  and  it  is  no 
use  comparing  Sloan'' s  alleged  offences  with  those  of  other 
riders  who  have  been  put  on  foot  and  then  given  their 
ticket  in  less  than  three  years.  Fifteen  years  is  indeed 
a  terrible  time  for  any  intelligent  man  to  be  living  in 
hopes  and  to  find  those  hopes  cast  down  as  year  follows 
year. 

It  is  a  common  mistake  to  think  that  Sloan  was  ever 
warned  off.  The  number  of  times  I  have  been  asked 
"  What  was  Sloan  warned  off  for  9''^  I  cannot  reckon; 
all  that  happened  to  him  was  that  he  was  told  that 
he  had  better  not  put  in  his  application.  He  has  been 
allowed  to  ride  at  exercise,  and  he  has  received  direct 
information  that  there  was  no  objection  at  all  to  his  going 
on  English  racecourses.  Indeed  racegoers  can  testify 
to  the  many  meetings  he  has  been  to  ever  since  the  time 
he  had  perforce  to  retire  from  the  saddle.  Now  a  jockey 
who  is  warned  off,  or  even  suspended,  is  not  allowed  to 
frequent  any  enclosure  on  a  racecourse.  However,  that 
is  only  a  little  point  which  this  book  will  make  clear. 

It  is  an  interesting  coincidence  that  Tod  Sloan  first 
made  the  acquaintance  of  racehorses  in  1886,  the  year 
in  which  poor  Fred  Archer  made  his  exit.  Opinions 
will  always  be  expressed  and  will  always  differ  about 
the  comparative  merits  of  Archer  and  Sloan  as  jockeys. 
The  comparison  is  unnecessary :   the  former  was  the 

xii 


INTRODUCTION 

greatest  exponent  in  the  last  fifty  years  of  the  old  style — 
and  Sloan  discovered  the  new.  That  this  pair  were  the 
finest  jockeys  ever  seen  by  living  racing  men  admits  of 
no  doubt.  Perhaps  the  two  of  them  shared  equally  the 
faculty  of  judging  pace.  In  strength  of  finishing  the 
style  of  Archer  may  have  been  more  impressive,  but  the 
gift  of  knowing  the  peculiarities  of  an  animal,  and  wheed- 
ling a  horse  of  doubtful  courage  to  do  something  for  his 
jockey,  has  been  possessed  by  Sloan  to  a  greater  extent 
than  by  any  other  jockey  the  writer  has  ever  seen.  One 
has  only  to  see  Sloan  with  cats,  dogs  or  horses  in  a  yard 
to  realise  that  he  might  have  done  anything  he  wished 
as  an  animal  trainer.  The  way  he  can  make  friends 
with  a  horse  who  will  not  let  others  come  near  him  is 
remarkable.  Not  only  that,  but  he  will  make  a  horse  do 
whatever  he  likes.  There  was  one  animal  in  particular 
at  Maisons  Laffitte  which  Tod  Sloan  could  induce  to  eat 
anything  he  liked.  It  didn't  matter  whether  it  was  a 
potato,  bread  or  fruit.  The  grimaces  that  old  horse 
would  make  scrunching  up  an  orange  was  the  greatest 
comedy  possible.  As  long  as  Sloan  would  eat  some  of 
it  himself  then  the  horse  would  follow  his  example. 
There  was  another  animal  who  would  lift  him  up  by 
the  jacket  in  his  teeth  and  put  him  down  as  gently  as 
a  lamb,  never  hurting  him  in  the  slightest.  I  merely 
relate  these  two  incidents  to  show  the  almost  hypnotic 
influence  Sloan  has  over  horses.  Does  it  not  suggest, 
therefore,  that  there  may  be  some  extraordinary  sympathy 
between  man  and  beast  which  contributed  in  a  measure 
to  Sloan's  racing  successes  ? 

Sloan  is  a  man  of  super-intelligence,  and  his  views 
about  most  things  suggest  that  had  he  gone  into  another 
walk  of  life  he  would  have  been  equally  successful.  But 
it  was  too  late  after  that  downfall  at  the  end  of  1900  to 
shape  himself  seriously  for  other  pursuits.     Nevertheless 

xiii 


INTRODUCTION 

his  intelligence  has  enabled  him  to  live — and  to  keep  up  the 
extravagance  of  a  dozen  or  more  of  the  best  cigars  daily  ! 
The  number  of  people  he  has  known  and  the  countries 
he  has  lived  in  should  make  the  narrative  which  follows 
appeal  to  a  far  wider  circle  of  readers  than  is  comprised 
by  merely  racing  people. 

That  well-known  sporting  editor  of  books  and  maga- 
zines, Mr  Lyman  Horace  Weeks,  wrote  some  years  ago  : 

"  Successful  as  Sloan  has  been  in  his  riding  and  in 
his  personal  fortunes,  it  has  all  been  deserved  and  worthily 
supported  by  the  conscientious  discharge  of  professional 
engagements  and  a  constant  adherence  to  honourable 
turf  methods.  In  this  he  has  set  a  laudable  example 
to  the  members  of  his  profession.  At  the  same  time,  his 
record  is  a  shining  example  of  the  certain  reward  that 
the  turf  holds  forth  to  men  of  his  calibre.'''^ 

The  same  writer  also  said  of  him  in  1897  :  "  One 
striking  feature  of  his  riding  is  that  his  judgment  never 
deserts  him  at  any  stage  of  the  race  ;  from  start  to  finish 
he  uses  headwork,  placing  his  mount  in  a  way  to  secure 
every  possible  advantage.'''' 

Frankly  I  have  had  some  difficulty  during  the  prepara- 
tion of  this  book  to  get  Tod  Sloan  to  speak  sufficiently  of 
himself.  While  as  a  private  citizen  he  has  retained 
absolute  confidence  in  himself,  and  can  be  quite  as  assertive 
as  the  next  man  about  what  he  thinks,  I  have  had  a  diffi- 
culty on  occasions  in  getting  him  to  speak  out  sufficiently 
as  to  what  big  things  he  has  done.  And  yet  he  will  be 
quite  talkative  as  to  his  weaknesses  ! 

An  American  trainer,  after  this  book  was  finished, 
called  my  attention  to  various  little  episodes  which  have 
not  been  dealt  with  by  Sloan  himself.  For  instance, 
from  the  records  my  friend  the  trainer  possesses  it  appears 
that  in  1895  Sloan  had  442  mounts,  of  which  he  won 
132,  or  about  30  per  cent.,  and  in  the  following  year  he 

xiv 


INTRODUCTION 

scored  over  36  per  cent,  of  his  mounts,  and  he  was  placed 
over  130  times.  It  was  in  1895  that  he  first  rode  four 
winners  in  a  day.  That  was  in  California.  None  of 
the  riders  in  1897  came  near  him  for  average.  It  was 
in  1898  at  Gravesend  (U.S.A.)  he  won  five  races — in 
fact  all  he  rode  in— in  one  day  ;  and  on  three  successive 
days  at  Coney  Island  he  won  all  three  races  he  rode 
in. 

It  seems  strange  to  hear  and  read  that  Sloan  was  at 
one  time  a  ''very  prudent  fellow,''  hut  does  it  not  strike 
you  that  his  imprudence  in  later  yeurs  may  have  been 
caused  by  his  always  being  surrounded,  especially  in 
England,  by  many  who  were  not  the  best  of  companions 
for  him  ?  Sloan  makes  no  excuses  for  himself  ;  in  fact 
he  would  take  the  whole  burden  of  responsibility  for  his 
faults  on  his  own  shoulders.  But  there  is  no  doubt  that 
the  fuss  made  of  him  gave  him  an  exalted  idea  of  his  own 
importance — and,  mind  you,  this  is  from  his  own  lips. 
There  are  scores  of  people  who  read  this  book  who  knew 
Sloan  intimately  when  he  was  riding  in  England,  but 
none  of  them  need  take  it  personally  when  I  say  that  there 
were  many  in  this  country  who  simply  spoilt  him.  That 
is  the  reason  why  Sloan  during  that  period,  and  the 
months  which  led  up  to  his  downfall,  was  more  to  be 
pitied  than  scorned.  As  he  has  sat  in  his  parlour 
smoking  a  big  cigar  and  chewing  over  his  past,  while 
doing  the  same  to  the  cigar,  he  has  reviewed  those  days 
from  1897  to  the  end  of  1900,  and  also  some  of  the  incidents 
afterwards,  especially  his  regret  that  there  was  no  one. 
to  stop  him  taking  that  ill-advised  action  against  the 
Societe  d' Encouragement.  Mind  you,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  Sloan  is  not  the  easiest  proposition  to  lead, 
but  personally  I  can  vouch  for  it  that  he  is  easy  enough 
to  lead  when  the  advice  given  is  sound,  even  though  it 
may  be  opposed  to  the  first  views  he  has  taken.     I  do  not 


XV 


INTRODUCTION 

mean  to  say  that  I  have  a  monopoly  of  wisdom,  but  many 
of  us  who  are  very  weak  about  the  management  of  our 
own  affairs  often  with  age  develop  a  striking  insight  into 
what  is  best  for  others,  and  on  no  single  occasion  can  I 
remember  whole-souled  friendly  counsel  being  ignored 
by  Sloan. 

A.  Dick  Luckman. 


XVI 


CHAPTER  I 

TOD  Sloan's  reminiscences 

My  Christened  Name — Beyond  the  Dreams  of  a  Black  Dog — Ignorance 
and  Fear  of  Horses — First  Time  in  the  Saddle — Men  I  have  met 

After  the  death  of  my  mother  when  I  was  five,  and  of 
my  adopted  parents,  or  rather  the  people  who  adopted 
me,  under  their  own  name,  Blauser,  I  had  various 
designations.  My  real  name,  that  which  I  was 
christened  by,  is  James  Forman  Sloan.  The  name 
Todhunter  came  from  my  father  nicknaming  me 
"  Toad  "  (because  I  was  so  small),  and  then  shortened 
to  Tod,  and  the  "  Todhunter  "  was  the  variation  of 
someone,  I  forget  whom. 

AVlien  I  was  left  alone  by  those  I  have  never  ceased 
to  grieve  for,  my  first  faithful  friend  was  a  black  dog, 
Tony.  We  would  sit  trying  to  entice  fish  out  of  the 
water,  where  they  were  not  before  I  came  around  with 
my  rod,  and  I  felt  he  looked  at  me  as  if  he  thought 
something  of  the  very  small  boy  beside  him.  He  would 
gaze  at  me  when  I  played  chequers,  for  I  was  seldom 
if  ever  beaten  :  it  was  a  sort  of  gift  handed  me  by 
Nature  to  be  a  phenomenon  at  the  game.  In  fact, 
I  had  an  uncanny  vision  for  the  game  known  in 
England  as  draughts. 

But  neither  Tony  nor  I  knew  what  was  before  me. 
There  was  never  an  idea  round  about  my  home  in 
Kokomo,  Indiana,  that  a  horse  was  anything  but  a 
curiosity.  My  father  had  never  driven  even  a  donkey. 
How  could  Tony  know — scared  as  I  always  was  at  the 
idea  of  a  horse — ^that  I  should  some  day  shine  in  the 


TOD   SLOAN 

world  Tony  and  I  knew  only  from  picture-books,  and 
that  I  should  be  shaken  by  the  hand  and  talked  with 
by  the  Prince  whose  coloured  picture  was  given  to  us 
by  the  local  grocery  store  at  Christmas  ?  That  prince 
was  to  be  King  of  England. 

There  were,  too,  lesser  lights  of  American  growth. 
I  would  have  the  weekly  paper,  and  see  the  picture  of 
John  L.  Sullivan,  and  when  we  looked  at  the  portraits 
I  would  murmur :  "  Gee  !  Tony,  we  have  expected  this 
paper  to-day,  shall  we  ever  have  a  handshaking  ac- 
quaintance with  him  ?  What  a  pride  it  would  be  to 
meet  '  John  L.'  !  And  if  only  he  would  notice  me 
some  day  !  " 

In  my  humble  way  I  was  to  come  out  of  obscurity. 
From  playing  truant  from  school  I  was  to  show  the 
world  how  weight  could  be  properly  distributed  on  a 
horse  ;  I  was  to  be  the  possessor  at  one  time  of  nearer 
half  a  million  dollars  than  a  quarter ;  I  was  to  meet 
almost  every  celebrity  in  the  world  they  and  I  flourished 
in.  I  am  suggesting  Tod  Sloan  myself — the  boy,  the 
man,  the  jockey.  Then  came  the  reverse  of  fortune, 
the  facts  of  which  shall  be  told;  the  grim  battling; 
hoping  against  hope;  the  procession  of  years  full  of 
incident;  but  with  the  constant  open  sore  of  dis- 
appointment. 

A  sense  of  humour  can  save  our  reason  and  the 
jokes  of  existence  can  make  me  laugh,  and  perhaps 
you  will  laugh  with  me — who  knows  !  A  jockey's 
tears  are  for  himself,  his  smiles  can  be  shared  with 
the  next  fellow.  All  the  same,  who  would  have 
thought,  when  I  was  run  away  with,  on  an  old  horse, 
with  me  grabbing  him  round  his  neck,  that,  later, 
I  was  to  sail  in  for  race  after  race  for  the  great  owners 
of  England  and  America. 

I  have  said  I  was  frightened  at  the  sight  of  a  horse. 


FIRST  TIME   IN  THE   SADDLE 

It  came  about  like  this.  We  had  to  follow  the  funeral 
of  a  boy  who  was  drowned  in  a  flood  through  being 
reckless.  I  wanted  to  see  him  buried,  but  as  the 
cemetery  was  a  long  way  off,  and  I  was  late,  I  "  stole  " 
a  horse — that  is  to  say,  I  borrowed  him  out  of  a  livery 
stable  near  where  I  was  working.  This  horse  I  had 
no  knowledge  of  anyone  having  ridden  before,  for  at 
least  three  months,  at  all  events.  I  got  on  the  horse 
— he  was  a  grey,  I  remember — and  the  stirrup-leathers 
were  shortened  by  a  chum  of  mine  to  the  last  hole, 
and  even  then  were  too  long  !  So  I  had  to  tuck  my 
feet  into  the  leather  loops.  How  I  got  round  my 
corner  when  the  grey  wanted  to  go  round  his  is 
something  I  shall  never  forget. 

That  horse  knew  he  had  a  kid  of  under  forty-five 
lb.  on  his  back.  I  am  sure  of  it,  although  I  hadn't 
learnt  horse  language  in  those  days.  However,  it 
was  ordained  that  there  were  not  to  be  two  corpses 
at  that  funeral,  and  we  did  arrive  at  the  graveyard. 
I  know  I  didn't  look  three  feet  high  when  I  got  off  that 
horse.  He  was  quite  young.  He  just  sniffed  at  me, 
then  shook  his  head,  and  champed  up  the  grass. 
When  I  got  back  to  him  his  contempt  seemed  to  have 
increased.  Wliether  it  was  the  sour  grass,  or  that  he 
really  wanted  to  be  stretched  out  at  a  gallop,  I  don't 
know.  The  other  visitors  to  the  funeral  had  gone  on 
ahead,  and  how  to  get  up  on  the  saddle  was  a  licker 
to  me.  I  tried  to  get  him  to  a  fence  so  that  I  could 
climb  on  his  back,  but  he  wouldn't  have  it.  I  wanted 
my  way,  but  he  had  his.  At  last  I  made  one  dash 
for  it,  but  before  T  could  get  either  on  or  off  he  had 
raced  away  with  me.  I  was  embracing  his  neck  ! 
I  got  my  right  foot  through  the  leather,  but  the  other 
hung  down.  I  did  not  dare  to  drop  off,  for  that  would 
have  been  certain  suicide. 


TOD    SLOAN 

People  could  see  me  now.  Everyone  yelled  to  me 
to  stick  on.  Part  of  the  journey  was  over  rough 
cobbles,  and  the  grey  must  have  stumbled  half-a-dozen 
times.  I  swore  to  myself  that,  if  I  ever  got  off  alive, 
I  would  only  look  for  a  horse  after  that  in  a  zoo- 
logical gardens.  He  seemed  to  go  faster  with  every 
furlong  he  went.  At  last  he  hesitated  and  slackened, 
and  I  steered  him  to  a  fence  and  a  fellow  rushed  out 
and  grabbed  him. 

"  You're  all  right  now,  Tod,"  he  said.  "  I'll  lead 
him  home;  but  you  stick  in  the  saddle  just  to  show 
'em  that  you  didn't  come  off." 

"  You  take  him  home,"  I  said.  "  I've  done 
enough  jockey  business  for  one  day.  You  don't 
catch  me  on  a  horse  again  in  a  hurry." 

It  was  a  darned  funny  thing  that,  years  after,  when 
riding  in  a  big  race  in  England,  having  had  already  two 
successes  that  day,  the  whole  incident  of  the  grey 
broncho  came  back  to  me.  I  was  showing  the  way 
home  on  that  English  track  on  another  grey,  and  the 
memory  suddenly  came  into  my  head  so  vividly  that 
I  began  to  laugh.  The  fellow  who  was  on  the  horse 
that  was  running  second,  just  at  the  shoulder  of  mine, 
shouted  :  "  You're  laughing :  you  haven't  won  yet." 
He  thought  I  was  jeering  him. 

This  is  all  a  sort  of  start  to  my  life's  experiences, 
but  here  the  introduction  will  not  bother  you.  There 
will  be  many  other  things  to  say  about  all  those  I 
met,  for,  before  I  came  to  England  and  saw  for  the 
first  time  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  all  the  nobility  and 
great  owners  of  the  country,  I  came  next  to  many  of 
the  celebrities  in  my  own  land.  The  great  Buffalo 
Bill  (Colonel  Cody)  nursed  me  on  his  knee  when  almost 
a  baby,  and  it  was  he  that  made  me  crazy  for  fire- 
arms of  all  kinds.     I  remember  that  he  let  me  try  one 

4 


MEN  I  HAVE  MET 

of  his  revolvers  one  day,  and  all  the  time  even  till  now 
I  have  had  a  longing  for  rifles,  sporting  guns,  Mausers, 
and  have  even  tried  my  hand — quite  recently — with 
some  success  with  the  latest  quick-firer. 

Others  with  whom  I  came  in  close  touch  were  Frank 
James,  the  brother  of  Jesse  James.  They  were  both 
among  the  notorious  bandits  of  America  ;  the  latter 
was  killed  by  a  pal,  but  Frank,  after  he  received  a 
pardon,  used  to  hold  the  forward  flag  on  several  race- 
tracks. However,  there  is  no  need  to  give  a  list,  for 
they  will  come  up  in  due  order  as  the  story  of  my 
life  progresses. 

Little  did  I  dream  when  I  saw  one  of  the  Valkyries 
compete  for  the  America  Cup  that  I  should  meet  and 
ride  for  Lord  Dunraven.  Lord  William  Beresford, 
one  of  the  greatest  of  friends  to  me,  had  only  been 
heard  of  :  there  will  be  such  a  lot  to  say  of  him. 
There  was  my  acquaintance  with  John  L.  Sullivan 
and  James  Corbett.  I  shall  recall  how  I  referee-ed 
one  of  the  first  matches  the  great  French  billiard  expert, 
Fournier,  played  in  America.  Then  reference  must 
be  made  to  the  well-known  Riley  Grannan,  who  came 
near  bringing  off  one  of  the  greatest  betting  coups  at 
Newmarket.  I  have  played  bridge  and  talked  till 
I  was  tired  to  the  late  John  W.  Gates,  the  Chicago 
millionaire — "  bet-you-a-million  Gates."  George  E. 
Smith,  at  one  time  a  simple  cork  cutter,  and  who 
as  a  millionaire  backer  was  known  to  the  world 
as  "  Pittsburg  Phil,"  was  a  constant  companion  of 
mine.  He  made  a  huge  fortune  backing  horses  in 
America.  I  have  never  known  two  men  more  alike 
in  their  living  and  character  than  "  Pittsburg  Phil  " 
and  Charlie  Hannam,  who  has  had  much  the  same  kind 
of  success  in  England. 

There  are  scores  of  others  too  to  write  of. 


TOD   SLOAN 

I  must  also  discuss  how  from  close  observation  and 
from  constant  visits  to  the  starting-post  I  made  sure 
in  my  own  mind  that  I  could  get  a  start  and  beat  well- 
known  English  jockeys. 

It's  right  here  that  I  want  to  give  the  exact  reason 
for  ever  leaving  America,  and  how  it  came  about. 
All  the  details  of  my  arrival  and  early  sorrows  and  joys 
will  be  told  in  due  order.  In  the  winter  of  1896- 
1897  the  late  Tom  Loates,  who,  as  everyone  knows, 
was  one  of  the  English  crack  jockeys,  came  out  to 
New  York  for  a  vacation  and  to  have  a  rest  for  a  time. 
He  was  a  good  deal  about  with  Jack  Macdonald,  the 
poor  fellow  who  was  killed  in  a  railway  accident  at 
Salisbury  a  few  years  back.  When  Tom  Loates  had 
been  in  New  York  some  time  I  put  myself  at  his 
disposal  to  make  his  stay  there  a  merrier  one  if  pos- 
sible, and  we  spent  a  considerable  time  together.  I 
was  in  a  position  to  show  him  round,  for  not  only  was 
I  saving  about  fifty  thousand  dollars  a  year  but  I 
was  also  busily  engaged  in  spending  about  two-thirds 
of  that  sum  !  Loates  and  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  each 
other,  and  with  the  early  opening  of  the  racing  season 
at  Morris  Park  I  got  the  idea  that  I  would  like  to  do 
Tommy  a  good  turn.  There  were  two  cinches  that  I 
was  engaged  for,  a  brace  of  real  good  things  I  thought 
any  kid  could  get  up  on  and  ride  home,  so  I  went  to 
him  and  told  him  that,  as  the  Stewards  were  also 
anxious  for  him  to  ride,  I  could  arrange  for  him  to 
have  the  two  mounts.  The  American  public  were 
very  interested  to  see  England's  crack  jockey,  and  I 
can  say  with  all  sincerity  I  wanted  to  give  my  pal  a 
chance  to  show  himself  on  a  New  York  track.  But 
I  couldn't  argue  him  into  it.  He  said  that  as  he  was 
in  America  for  his  health  he  was  afraid  of  what  Mr 
Leopold  de  Rothschild  would  think  if  he  got  in  the 

6 


TOM  LOATES 

saddle.  However,  whether  he  was  fit  to  ride  or  not 
makes  no  matter.  He  backed  my  two  mounts  and 
both  of  them  won.  We  had  dinner  that  night  and  he 
thanked  me.  He  liad  won  a  nice  bit  of  dough.  A 
few  days  after,  on  the  eve  of  his  leaving  for  England, 
he  was  interviewed  by  one  of  the  newspaper  men,  and 
was  asked  whom  he  thought  were  the  best  American 
jockeys.  He  answered  that  Fred  Taral  was  quite 
a  good  rider,  and  also  the  coloured  boy,  Willie  Sims, 
while  among  the  younger  crowd  he  had  noticed  a 
promising  boy  in  the  little  kid  Winnie  O'Connor. 
It  didn't  matter  much,  for  I  was  doing  too  well 
financially,  and  riding  too  many  winners  to  need  a 
booster,  but  here  was  my  friend  giving  a  story  to  a 
leading  paper,  and  not  only  did  he  put  a  coloured 
boy  before  me,  but  left  my  name  out  altogether !  I 
wasn't  exactly  sore,  but  from  that  time  I  had  a  fixed 
determination  to  go  to  England  to  see  what  I  could 
do  against  him. 


CHAPTER  II 

MAKING   BAD   AS   A   JOCKEY 

Start  as  an  Aeronaut — Peddling  Balloons — "  \Vlio's  the  Boy  for  the 
Parachute  ?  '' — Joining  a  Stable — Worse  and  Worse — More  Runa- 
way Rides — Become  a  Cook 

My  father,  who  had  been  an  officer  in  the  United 
States  Army,  first  had  a  look  at  his  latest  kid  on  10th 
August  1874.  I  had  two  brothers  and  one  sister,  and 
my  first  appearance  on  any  track  was  on  the  date  just 
mentioned  at  Bunker  Hill,  twelve  miles  from  Kokomo, 
Indiana.  Father,  who  had  fought  in  the  Civil  War 
and  was  made  prisoner  at  Gettysburg,  never  drank, 
and  didn't  feel  called  upon  to  buy  drinks  for  the  boys 
who  came  to  congratulate  him.  Some  time  after 
I  was  born  he  started  in  business  at  Kokomo.  The 
combination  of  the  two  shows  he  ran  seems  fanny  to 
us  now,  although  it  was  quite  serious  at  the  time. 
At  one  entrance  to  the  building  he  occupied  was  a 
swell  barber's  shop,  and  at  the  other  door,  to  the  left, 
was  his  real  estate  office.  He  made  a  good  living 
out  of  both.  He  used  to  play  the  violin  very  well, 
and  I  suppose  we  got  the  habit  of  whistling  from 
following  the  tunes,  both  my  brother  "  Cash  "  and  I 
have  often  been  cuffed  for  the  habit.  I  have  men- 
tioned that  I  was  a  champion  chequers  player ;  they 
said  that  I  used  to  whistle  my  opponents  off  their 
game :  I'd  never  stop.  After  my  mother  died  my 
father  was  a  bit  too  easy  with  me  ;  in  fact,  he  was  too 
lenient  altogether.  I  would  go  out  in  the  fields  with 
Tony  and  fish,  fish,  all  day  long,  instead  of  going  to 

8 


START  AS  AN   AERONAUT 

school.  At  least  it  gave  me  a  taste  for  the  open  air. 
I  was  captain  of  the  baseball  crowd  in  our  small 
town,  giving  orders  to  fellows  four  and  five  years 
older  than  I  was.  In  fact,  I  took  it  on  myself  to  boss 
them  all,  and  they  stood  for  it.  Sometimes  I  got  near 
getting  a  licking,  but  I  suppose  I  was  too  small  for  them 
to  take  very  seriously,  although  I  could  sting  them  a 
bit  with  my  tongue,  which  was  bitter  even  then. 

I  had  stayed  away  from  school  so  much,  roaming 
about  with  my  dog  Tony,  that  one  day  the  folks  at 
home  threatened  to  put  me  in  the  Reformatory 
School.  Tony  and  I  both  cried  and  I  asked  him  what 
he  would  do,  and  he  sort  of  pointed  away  to  the 
west  where  the  sun  was  setting,  and  I  took  him  as  a 
pointer  and  determined  to  make  for  my  aunt's  house, 
about  twenty  miles  away.  Tony  seemed  to  under- 
stand and  at  daybreak  we  set  out  on  the  train.  It 
seemed  a  fearful  journey  to  me  then — but  remember  I 
hadn't  been  out  of  Kokomo  and  that  I  was  only  about 
thirteen  years  old.  The  Reformatory  had  scared  me 
and  I  kept  on  thinking  I  must  help  myself  somehow ; 
I'd  surely  be  the  butt  of  the  town  if  I  had  to  be  sent 
to  be  "  cured." 

Tony  and  I  therefore  "  hiked  "  it  off  for  "  aunt's  "— 
my  real  aunt,  my  real  mother's  sister.  She  wasn't 
altogether  all  over  me  when  I  arrived  and  asked  me 
what  I'd  come  for. 

"  Come  on  a  visit,"  said  I. 

"  And  yer  dog,  is  he  a  visitor  too  ?  " 

"  Neither  he  nor  I  go  where  the  other  doesn't  " 
was  the  best  way  I  could  put  it.  Then  I  looked  round 
to  see  if  dear  auntie  had  any  grub  for  me,  and  Tony 
put  on  a  sort  of  inquiring  sniff  too,  all  the  time  trying 
to  make  friends  with  aunt.  But  she  wasn't  having 
any.     Later  on  she  pulled  out  some  bread  and  butter 

9 


TOD    SLOAN 

and  some  pie  and  told  me  there  were  rats  about  the 
house — ^that  was  for  Tony's  benefit. 

She  kept  on  putting  questions,  asking  me  this,  that 
and  the  other  about  my  schooHng  and  what  I  was 
going  to  do  for  a  Hving,  and  I  had  to  make  the  best 
answers  I  could. 

Then  she  began  to  ask  whether  I  was  going  to  stay 
the  night  and  I  repeated  that  I  had  "  come  on  a  visit." 
I  soon  began  to  feel  that  we  were  outstaying 
a  welcome  and  after  two  days  my  aunt  was  glad  to 
turn  me  and  my  dog  out :  we  had  outstayed  our 
welcome.  She  was  a  good  churchwoman  and  never 
could  hold  with  my  not  being  the  same  as  all  the 
other  folk  she  knew.  Her  husband  worked  on  the 
Pennsylvania  Railway  and  I  got  no  sympathy  from 
him  either.  Tony  and  I  camped  out  for  a  night  or 
two,  then  I  went  back  home  and  my  adopted  mother 
(Mrs  Blauser — Aunt  Lib)  asked  me,  without  letting 
me  in  at  the  front  door,  whether  I  had  come  for  my 
trunk.  Never  having  had  either  a  trunk  or  enough 
clothes  to  fill  even  a  small  bag  I  could  see  that  she  was 
"  talking  sarcastic "  and  I  could  see  also  that  she 
meant  it.     What  was  I  to  do  ? 

There  was  no  question  but  that  the  situation  spelt 
w-o-R-K,  or  at  all  events  earning  enough  to  board  me, 
and  buy  myself  a  chew  and  tobacco  for  my  pipe — for  I 
had  begun  early  at  the  habit  which  led  to  sixteen  or 
more  coronas  a  day.  Don't  forget  I  was  only  thirteen 
years  old. 

I  went  to  work  at  the  gas  and  oil  wells,  and  Mr 
James  Neil  took  me  in.  Neil  was  a  foreman  master 
driller  and  I  soon  picked  up  enough  knowledge 
of  the  engine- work.  Two  serious  explosions  in  which 
I  nearly  lost  my  life  made  me  get  a  bit  '\fache  "  with 
the   oil-well   graft,   and    when   the   No.   4  well   drill 

lO 


<     > 


n    5 

5  -'^ 


JOINING  A   STABLE 

was  finished,  and  Neil  got  ready  to  go  back  to  his  home 
in  Pittsburg,  I  looked  out  for  another  job  too.  It  was 
time :  I  had  been  two  weeks  in  linseed  oil  and  lime 
water  after  one  of  the  terrible  bums  from  the  ex- 
plosion :  it  seemed  to  shrivel  me  even  smaller  than 
I  was  before. 

I  knew  Callaway  who  kept  a  livery  stable  in  Kokomo 
— ^the  same  town,  my  native  place — so  I  went  round  to 
him.  He  put  me  up  and  I  was  handy  boy  about  the 
yard,  doing  this,  that  and  the  other,  sort  of  general 
utility  turn.  But  I  was  so  small  for  the  work,  and 
although  I  was  willing  enough  they  were  always 
telling  me  about  my  helplessness.  Two  months 
therefore  saw  the  end  of  that. 

Down  on  my  luck  again,  I  went  on  to  my  real 
father's  place  in  Marion,  also  in  Indiana,  but  I  could 
see  that  there  was  not  enough  to  support  me  about  the 
house  :  they  were  too  poor.  However,  work  turned 
up  in  a  carriage  factory.  But  it  was  the  same  old 
cry — "  too  small,"  and  I  had  to  beat  it  from  there. 
They  said  I  was  too  light  for  the  work  :  I  only  weighed 
fifty  pounds.  I  was  an  apprentice  without  pay  so 
there  wasn't  much  lost ;  naturally  I  couldn't  help 
support  the  family. 

Then  a  job  turned  up  in  a  drinking  saloon.  I  had 
to  sweep  up,  attend  to  the  glasses,  close  the  shutters 
and  all  the  time  pick  up  swear  words  from  the 
customers.  I  was  a  useful  boy  at  light  jobs  but  was 
told  after  a  bit  that  I  was  not  heavy  enough  for  the 
sweeping !  It  was  a  bit  of  a  knock-out — for  I  used  to 
put  in  a  lot  of  elbow  and  wrist  work  for  what  my 
back  couldn't  do  ;  in  fact  I  reckoned  myself  quite 
an  artist  with  the  broom.  Still  there  was  nothing  else 
for  it  but  to  up  and  away  and  get  back  to  Kokomo. 
I  thought  I  had  a  better  chance  there. 

II 


TOD    SLOAN 

Things  went  on  until  there  was  a  very  important 
period  of  boyhood.  There  was  a  "  Professor  "  A.  L. 
Talbot,  a  sort  of  aeronaut  who  went  about  the  country 
going  up  in  his  balloon  and  with  all  sorts  of  side 
shows,  including  ringing  the  sticks  and  pocket  knives. 
He  had  booths  for  various  things.  He  had  one  big 
balloon  on  a  dray  drawn  by  a  team  of  horses  which  I 
always  used  to  admire  when  they  came  into  "  Doc " 
Callaway's  yard. 

"  Professor  "  Talbot  saw  more  in  me  than  others 
had  done.  We  had  struck  up  an  acquaintance  some 
time  previously,  and  this  time  I  went  along  with  him. 
We  travelled  around  and  made  our  own  balloons,  and 
when  the  game  got  slack  we  had  to  hustle  and  earn 
our  board  by  making  toy  balloons  for  kids.  It  was 
my  business  to  go  round  and  peddle  them.  I  tell  you 
I  was  some  salesman,  and  often  think  I  could  have 
managed  a  department  store  if  father  had  taken  me 
by  the  back  of  the  neck  and  forced  me  into  business. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  first  place  we  struck — 
Legrange,  Indiana.  I  was  a  mite  walking  beside  the 
hefty  fellow  that  the  "  Professor  "  was,  and  a  boy  sang 
out :  "  Hallo,  Talbot,  where  did  you  get  this  one  ?  " 
Certainly  I  must  have  looked  a  bit  comic  carrying  a 
big  chunk  of  meat  while  Talbot  had  an  armful  of 
bread. 

The  "Professor"  shouted  back,  "Don't  you  ask 
sassy  questions  ;  he  can  lick  you  anyway,"  and  then  he 
looked  towards  me.  But  I  didn't  want  to  fight  and 
I  was  making  myself  look  smaller  than  ever,  when 
Talbot  said,  "  Look  here,  you,  if  you  don't  lick  him  I'll 
lick  you."  So  there  I  was  on  a  hiding  to  nothing 
anyway.  Well,  I  sized  up  the  other  chap  and  saw  he 
wasn't  much  bigger  than  me.  I  went  for  him  sharp 
and,  having  been  a  bit  of  a  wrestler  among  the  boys 

12 


FINDING  THE  PEA 

at  home,  managed  to  throw  him,  but  he  wouldn't 
let  me  hit  him,  rolling  over  on  his  face  just  by  a  big 
cedar-tree.  I  tried  to  get  a  fist  round  by  his  ears, 
but  he  dodged  me,  and  all  I  could  do  was  to  rub  his 
face  against  the  cedar-tree  singing  out,  "You  won't 
be  so  fresh  after  this."  Really  I  don't  believe  that  I 
had  much  of  a  temper  before  that  day  but  that  scrap 
developed  it — or  rather  started  it. 

We  were  quite  a  happy  family  with  Talbot.  We 
used  the  horses  for  riding  half-mile  races  against  other 
horses  at  the  Fair.  Talbot  used  to  be  the  jockey,  and 
afterwards  he  would  ride  in  circus  dress  two  of  them 
barebacked.  He  gave  capital  exhibitions  of  riding 
and  was  a  good  all-round  showman.  I  never  knew 
where  he  came  from  but  I  should  say  at  some  time 
or  other  he  had  been  a  clown  in  a  circus.  He  would 
fight  on  the  slightest  provocation  and  would  some- 
times suggest  by  the  look  of  his  face  that  he  had  been 
through  a  pretty  rough  gruelling  the  night  before. 
But  he  wouldn't  talk  much  about  all  this.  It  wasn't 
that  he  used  to  get  drunk  and  fly  into  a  brawl  at  a 
saloon,  but  would  scrap  for  the  love  of  it.  One  day  I 
remember  at  a  country  fair  he  sent  me  down  from  the 
ticket  office  with  a  dollar  to  get  small  change.  I  was 
passing  one  of  the  stalls  where  they  were  doing  the 
three  shell  and  pea  trick.  I  watched  for  about  ten 
minutes  and  at  first  they  took  very  little  notice  of  the 
small  kid.  At  last  I  couldn't  stand  the  temptation 
any  more  and  I  called  out,  "  I'll  bet  you  a  dollar  that 
I  know  where  the  pea  is." 

The  grafter  answered,  "  I  can't  bet  with  you,  you're 
too  young  and  small,  but  this  gentleman  can,  if  you 
like  to  give  him  the  dollar." 

Of  course  the  "  gentleman  "  was  the  booster  or 
buttoner — ^as   the   tout   for   the   three-card   game   is 

13 


TOD    SLOAN 

called  in  England.  Well  you  can  guess  what  followed  ; 
"  I  pointed  to  the  shell  and  the  pea  wasn't  there.  I 
went  away  whistling,  walked  about  for  a  time  and  then 
back  to  our  show.  Talbot  didn't  say  anything  at 
first ;  he  didn't  remember  where  I'd  been,  but  at  last 
he  sung  out  to  me :  "  Where's  that  dollar  I  give  you 
to  get  change  ?  " 

"  I've  lost  it." 

"  Wliat  do  you  mean — ^lost  it  ?  How  could  you  do 
that  ?  " 

"  Well  not  in  the  way  you  think  :  it  didn't  hop  out 
of  my  pocket."  And  then  I  plucked  up  courage  and 
told  him  all  about  it. 

Talbot  put  on  his  hat  and  ordered  me  to  follow  him. 
He  walked  straight  over  to  the  shell  game,  keeping  his 
temper  until  he  said,  "You  had  a  bet  with  this  kid 
here  and  he  lost  a  dollar." 

The  man  started  to  deny  it,  swearing  that  he  had 
only  had  one  bet  that  morning  and  that  was  with  a 
gentleman  who  put  a  dollar  on,  but  Talbot  stuck  at  it 
and  there  was  a  dangerous  look  in  his  eye  until  the 
man  forked  up  the  money.  Then  he  let  his  fury  go. 
He  smashed  up  the  shells,  kicked  the  bench  into 
pieces,  shook  the  guy  by  the  collar,  gave  him  an  open 
hander  and  a  parting  kick  as  he  was  running  away, 
and  added  certain  injunctions  in  certain  language  to 
the  effect  that  he  would  do  quite  a  number  of  things 
if  he  saw  him  at  those  tricks  again.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  we  never  did  see  him  again. 

Of  course  Talbot's  balloons  were  not  filled  with 
gas.  He  couldn't  always  get  it  for  one  thing,  and 
anyhow  it  cost  too  much.  They  were  inflated  in  the 
old  original  way  that  Mongolfier  discovered — with 
hot  air.  Talbot  was  good  enough  to  tell  me  that  I 
was  the  best  filler  he  had  ever  seen.     I  was  very 

14 


THE  PARACHUTE 

handy  with  the  pine  logs  and  oil  barrel  staves  that  we 
had  to  use  in  order  to  get  enough  hot  vapour.  One 
day  he  was  going  to  make  an  ascent  when  a  bit  of 
the  balloon  showed  signs  of  fire.  I  could  see  it  was 
smouldering  and  I  sang  out  to  everybody  not  to  let 
it  go.  But  Talbot  was  already  on  the  trapeze  ready 
to  ascend— he  used  to  do  all  sorts  of  monkey  tricks 
in  the  air  on  that  same  swinging  bar. 

I  cried  out  to  him,  "Don't  go;  the  balloon's  on 
fire,"  but  he  didn't  hear  and  shouted  still  louder  to  the 
men  to  let  go.  Just  as  he  started  the  flames  burst 
out.  With  the  extra  heat  he  went  up  all  the  quicker 
of  course,  and  we  could  only  wonder  how  soon  he 
would  come  down.  I  never  thought  I  should  see  him 
ahve  agam.  \Vlien  he  got  up  about  fifteen  hundred 
feet  the  thing  was  all  afire  and  collapsed,  and  he  came 
down  very  swiftly  in  a  field  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  away— not  exactly  with  a  crash  but  at  a  pace 
at  which  it  might  be  thought  no  man  could  be  alive 
to  remember  the  tale.  But  he  wasn't  dead!  He 
was  only  knocked  out.  He  soon  showed  signs  of  life. 
The  scrap  of  the  balloon  which  was  left  had  broken  the 
fall  somewhat.  We  took  him  round  to  the  dmg  store 
and  gave  him  some  brandy.  He  got  up  abc  at  an 
hour  after  and  went  to  a  dance.  By  the  way,  this  all 
occurred  at  Cullum,  Indiana. 

My  first  experience  at  building  a  real  new  balloon 
was  at  Washington,  Indiana.  I  liked  the  job  better 
than  anything  I  had  done,  and  soon  got  expert  at  it 
It  was  after  this  that  Talbot  signed  a  contract  to  give 
an  ascent  and  got  an  extra  twenty-five  dollars  for 
domg  a  parachute  act  in  connection  with  it— neither 
Talbot  nor  I  had  ever  seen  a  parachute,  and  he  told 
me  so,  but  we  got  a  picture  and  started  in  making  one. 
Tlien  he  told  me  that  he  had  promised  the  public  a 

15 


TOD   SLOAN 

surprise— to   slip   his   boy   out   of  the   balloon.    He 
sprung  it  on  me  one  morning. 

My  first  ascent  was  to  be  at  Boonesville  Fair,  ihe 
Professor  had  promised  the  people  who  ran  the  show 
a  surprise.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  had  contracted 
for  an  extra  twenty-five  dollars  to  "  slip  his  boy 
out  of  the  balloon  in  a  parachute  !  He  sprung  it  on 
me  one  morning. 

I  asked:     "  Who's  the  boy  ?  " 

He  said  :     "  You  are  '  the  boy  '  ! " 

I  answered  :  "  Oh,  am  I !  " 

But  he  saw  my  face. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  like  it,  Tod,"  he  said. 

"  It's  all  right,"  I  answered.  "  But  what  sort  of 
thing  is  the  parachute,  the  umbrella  thing  I  am  to 
come  down  in  ?     Shall  I  be  heavy  enough  to  make  it 

open  out  ? "  ,      ^     n  •     4. 

"  Oh  you'll  be  all  right,"  said  the  Professor,  just 
as  if  he'  were  saying  "  Pass  the  butter,"  but  I  began 
thinking  it  over,  and  the  more  I  looked  up  at  the  sky 
and  began  to  think  of  having  to  slip  down  from  the 
clouds  the  less  I  liked  it.  I  began  to  think  how  1 
could  dodge  it.  My  brother  "  Cash  "  had  left  home 
some  time  before,  after  a  scrap  with  father.  Cash  ran 
down  the  railway  track  faster  than  the  old  man,  and 
when  he  stopped  it  was  with  a  stable  of  horses. 

I  had  heard  from  Cash  that  he  was  overseer  and  head 
iockey  of  a  stable,  and  he  said  that  if  I  wanted  to  join 
him  and  become  a  rider  I  was  to  leave  Washington, 

Indiana,  at  once.  i    .  t 

Well  I  had  to  cough  a  bit  and  think  over  what  1 
should  say  before  I  told  the  Professor,  but  he  was  very 
sporting  about  it;  and,  as  it  meant  only  twenty-five 
dollars'  difference  in  the  pay  for  the  show,  he  said : 
"  Perhaps  you're  right ;    go  and  join  your  brother. 

i6 


A  DOG  FOR  A  QUARTER 

And  so  we  parted,  and  with  my  "  trunk  '*— about  a 
foot  square,  easy  to  carry  under  one  arm  and  con- 
taining a  shirt-waist  and  a  pair  of  stockings,  not 
more,  for  I  was  just  a  kid  in  knickers— I  went  off  on 
the  railroad  train. 

I  came  upon  the  "  stable  car,"  and  Cash,  midway 
between  Washington  and  St  Louis.  I  saw  a  little 
fellow  ahead  of  me  hiking  a  mile  down  a  railroad  track 
as  hot  as  a  furnace  carrying  a  pail  of  water  in  each  hand. 
He  had  a  long  peaked  trotting  driver's  cap,  and  looked 
the  funniest  guy  I'd  ever  seen.  I  walked  up  behind 
him  to  see  who  he  was,  and  I  heard  him  whistling— 
and  then,  of  course,  I  knew  it  was  Cash. 

We  embraced  like  brothers  should  ;  I  was  glad  to 
see  him  and  he  me.  We  sat  down  by  the  track  and 
talked  things  out.  We  had  plenty  of  hope— but  I 
couldn't  focus  that  talk  quite  properly  through  looking 
at  that  darned  cap  of  Cash's.  I  burnt  it  one 
morning. 

It  was  here  I  got  hold  of  another  dog.  I  whistled 
to  him,  and  was  going  to  steal  him,  for  I'd  taken  a 
fancy  to  him,  but  the  owner  came  out,  and  as  I  had 
actually  got  hold  of  the  animal's  head  there  was  only 
one  thing  to  say: 

"  Do  you  want  to  sell  this  dog,  boss  ?  " 

He  stuck  out  for  half-a-dollar,  but  I  whistled  him 
into  taking  a  quarter.     And  I  had  a  new  companion. 

I  hadn't  by  any  means  got  over  my  fear  of  horses, 
but  Cash  put  me  at  odd  jobs,  and  when  we  got  to  St 
Louis  he  made  me  ride  a  little,  and  gradually  I  got  used 
to  it.  The  stable  belonged  to  Tracy  and  Levy,  and 
they  had  two  horses  called  Surprise  and  Biddy  Bowl- 
ing. It  was  a  pretty  easy  job  to  start  with,  and  all 
I  had  to  do  was  to  lead  one  of  them  round  after  he  had 
done  a  gallop  until  he  stopped  sweating.     Then  Cash 


B  17 


TOD    SLOAN 

taught  me  the  art  of  rubbing  a  horse's  legs,  and  gener- 
ally "  doing  "  him  ;  but  how  tired  I  got  !  I  don't 
think  that  ever  in  my  life  I  really  knew  what  weariness 
spelt  until  then.  I  would  hunch  myself  in  a  corner 
with  every  limb  aching.  I  suppose  I  got  a  few  muscles 
to  work  which  had  never  been  asked  to  come  forward 
and  do  their  bit  before.  Then  they  told  me  that  I 
should  have  a  little  bit  of  exercise  jobs,  "  riding  work," 
as  they  say  in  England.  It  was  at  Kansas  City, 
and,  my  !  how  cold  it  was.  I  felt  frozen,  for  recol- 
lect that  I  was  only  thirteen  and  weighed  four  stone. 

"  Up  you  get  on  Biddy  Bowling  and  let  her  walk 
round  the  track,"  someone  said,  showing  me  a  horse 
rather  like  the  grey  that  had  given  me  such  a 
fright.  Biddy  took  a  peek  at  me,  and  I  often 
wondered  what  she  was  thinking  of  when  "  Shrimp  " 
Sloan  was  on  her  back.  At  all  events  she  must 
have  thought  there  was  an  insect  worrying  her. 
She  made  two  or  three  little  Wild  West  movements, 
and  after  I  had  picked  myself  up  and  rubbed  the 
bruises  I  walked  back  to  the  stable.  She  got  there 
long  before  I  did  ! 

I  still  hated  the  whole  business,  but,  as  I  had  gotten 
into  it,  I  didn't  care  to  slouch  off.  In  any  case,  to  my 
reasoning  little  mind,  it  seemed  better  than  being  jerked 
out  of  a  balloon,  for  sometimes  when  I'd  eaten  too 
much  supper  I  would  dream  that  I  was  dropping  down 
from  the  sky  with  the  parachute  just  out  of  clutching 
distance. 

I  had  a  chance  to  go  into  the  stable  of  Colonel 
Charlie  Johnson,  who  owned  a  horse  named  Jim 
Douglas.  My  first  ride  in  public  was  on  this  horse, 
at  Pueblo  Colorado.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  walk 
around  the  ring.  Now,  Jim  stood  well  over  seventeen 
hands,  and  was  a  pretty  mean  horse,  I  can  tell  you. 

i8 


BECOME  A  COOK 

When  they  hoisted  me  up  he  began  to  walk,  then  he 
trotted,  and  then  he  broke  into  a  canter.     I  yelled 
my  loudest  for  help  and  lay  back  tugging  with  my  small 
arms  at  the  bridle  reins.     Some  of  the  stable  boys  came 
running  after  me,  but  Jim  must  have  thought  that  they 
were  other  horses,  for  he  stretched  himself  out  and  did 
a  furlong  inside  thirteen  seconds.     He  swung  along 
until  he  came  to  a  mud  bank,  where  he  shot  me  off, 
and  then  turned  round  and  allowed  himself  to  be  led 
quietly  back.     We  all  know  that  dogs  can  smile  and 
that  tears  come  into  their  eyes.     I  am  not  sure  to  this 
day  whether  Jim  was  laughing  at  me  or  whether  he 
pitied  me.     In  any  case  there  was  no  half-and-half  idea 
about  what  they  thought  in  the  stable-yard.      One 
thing  was  quite  certain  :  I  should  never  make  a  jockey. 
They  told  me  so,  and  I  agreed  that  it  wasn't  my  work  ; 
but  I  was  a  handy  boy,  and,  instead  of  getting  rid  of 
me,  they  put  me  on  to  cook.     I  could  hardly  reach  the 
top  of  the  stove,  but  the  coffee  I  made  was  all  right,  and 
I  got  fine  and  dandy  at  frying  bacon  and  cooking  eggs 
for  the  bunch.     I  remember  that  I  tried  my  hand  at  a 
few  other  things,  but  generally  had  to  smuggle  the 
result  away  to  a  corner  and  eat  it  up  myself,  until  one 
day  I  found  I  could   make  hot  biscuit^— like  your 
Scotch  scones  or  small  soda  cakes,  but  hot.     They 
were  some  success,  and  the  neighbours  would  send  the 
ingredients  from  miles  round  for  me  to  make  them. 
So  we  muddled  along.     I  was  always  thinking  that 
something  would  turn  up,  for,  although  cooking  can 
be  a  fine  art,  I  was  not  actually  qualifying  for  a  chef. 
Now  at  that  time  I  was  quite  sure  that  I  should  never 
be  a  jockey,  but  all  the  same  I  would  sometimes  sit 
down  and  ask  myself  how  it  was  that  I  was  frightened 
of  a  horse  when  I  was  not  scared  at  other  things.     But 
the  talk  with  myself  generally  left  off  where  it  began. 

19 


TOD   SLOAN 

I  didn't  get  rid  of  the  idea  at  the  back  of  my  mind  that 
I  would  hke  to  learn  to  ride.     I  kept  on  figuring  to 
myself  that  I  ought  to  be  able  to  do  as  well  as  the  next 
fellow,  but  somehow  it  all  left  me  in  a  bit  of  a  whirl. 
Yet  I  was  always  coming  back  to  the  subject.     My 
brother  Cash  lost  his  job  with  Johnson,  and  in  the 
spring  we  went  to  Denver,  and  he  got  a  position  with  a 
big  fellow,  named  Hank  Combs.     Then  the  desire  to 
ride  again  came  back  to  me.     But  it  took  me  longer  to 
learn  than  anyone  I  ever  heard  of.     I  did  have  another 
chance  of  showing  what  I  could  do  in  this  stable ;  but 
it  was  the  same  old  story.     They  found  a  little  chestnut 
colt  for  me  to  exercise,  but  he  threw  up  his  tail  and  ran 
away  with  me  into  the  woods,  getting  rid  of  me  against 
a  tree.     I  nearly  broke  my  neck  !     I  didn't  remember 
anything  until  I  found  myself  lying  in  one  of  the 
attendants'  cots.     My  Denver  debut  had  thus  ended  m 
disaster,  and  I  wanted  to  clear  out ;  but  how  to  get 
away  presented  certain  difficulties.     We  had  nothmg 
except  a  little  handbag  each.     Luckily  Cash,  thinkmg 
he  was  going  to  be  a  jockey,  had  bought  about  forty 
dollars'  worth  of  saddlery,  caps,  etc.,  and  had  paid  for 
them.     They  were  coming  west  to  him  through  the 
American  Express,  and  by  showing  the  receipt  and  the 
way-bill  to  a  fellow  in  the  town  he  got  ten  dollars. 
They  didn't  put  up  the  bar  against  youngsters  gomg 
into  pool-rooms  and  gambling  saloons  in  Denver  m 
those  days,  and  with  two  dollars  of  the  ten  I  went  mto 
one  of  them  and  began  to  win.     I  ran  the  two  dollars 
into  fifty.     \Vliat  would  have  happened  next  I  don't 
know,  but  Cash  suddenly  came  to  me  saying  :    "For 
God's  sake,  give  it  up  ;  I've  lost  all  my  eight  dollars, 
and  we  shall  have  to  walk  if  we  lose  what  you've  got 
there."     I  had  a  little  sense— and  we  cleared  out. 
I  then  found  my  way  to  Kansas  City  and  began  to 


20 


THE   BAY  DISTRICT  TRACK 

work  for  the  trainer  Johnny  Campbell,  whom  many  may 

have  met  in  Europe.     Campbell  had  a  sort  of  idea  that 

I  was  going  to  be  a  success.     At  all  events  he  expected 

a  great  deal  more  from  me  that  I  did  from  myself. 

He  had   what  he  thought  a   promising  colt   named 

Viking.     I  fear  I  may  have  ruined  the  animal,  for 

directly  I  got  on  his  back  he  cleared  out  with  me  and 

ran  three  miles  and  a  half  before  he  stopped.     Well, 

I  ask  you— he  was  only  a  two-year-old,  and  a  gallop 

like  that  was  liable  to  spoil  any  young  animal's  career. 

Johnny  Campbell  was  furious,  in  fact  the  maddest  man 

I  ever  saw  in  my  life.     They  advised  me  to  keep  out 

of  his  way,  and  I  was  wise  to  the  fact  that  he'd  choke 

me  if  he  caught  me.     But  I  owe  a  good  deal  to  him, 

and  he  was  really  a  kindly  soul.     Once  more  I  had  to 

have  little  words  with  myself  and  wonder  whether  it 

was  all  worth  going  on  with. 

I  suppose  I  screwed  up  a  little  more  courage  gradu- 
ally.    At  all  events,  I  wasn't  thrown  quite  so  often  in 
the  next  few  gallops  I  had.     At  last  I  actually  got  a 
mount  in  a  race— at  New  Orleans,  on  Lovelace,  for  the 
Beverwyck  stable,  and  I  finished   third.     I  rode  in 
four  other  races  at  the  same  meeting,  but  didn't  win 
any.     I  hated  myself,  for  I  didn't  seem  to  improve  at 
all.     I  may  as  well  be  frank  about  it  :  the  truth  is  that 
I  was  so  bad  until  1893  that  I  was  a  byword  among 
trainers.     They  used  to  say  that  if  a  man  didn't  want 
his  horse  to  win  he  needn't  have  him  pulled.     AH 
that  he  had  to  do  was  to  send  for  Sloan.     His  riding 
would  be  handicap  enough.     Of  course,  I  heard  about 
It  all,  and  it  didn't  upset  me  as  much  as  it  might  have 
done,  for  I  knew  I  couldn't  ride. 

One  little  sentence  however  kept  mysteriously  ring- 
ing in  my  ears  :  "  You  may  be  able  to  ride  some  day:' 
Still,  this  was  poor  consolation,  and  as  I  was  a  thinking 


21 


TOD   SLOAN 

sort  of  kid  it  hurt  me  some  when  the  papers  made  fun 
of  me.  I  should  hke  to  have  had  a  go  for  two  or  three 
of  those  newspaper  men,  but  I  bided  my  time,  without 
much  hope,  however.  I  just  kept  my  tongue  between 
my  teeth  and  didn't  talk  so  much  then  as  I  do  now. 
But  those  papers  !  \Vlien  "  By  "  Holly  signed  me  on 
at  the  Bay  District  Track  at  San  Francisco  one  race 
writer  said  that  Holly  must  have  engaged  me  because 
of  the  loud  clothes  I  used  to  wear  instead  of  for  any 
merit  I  had  as  a  rider. 

It  was  the  same  old  story.     I  tried  and  tried  and 
seemed  to  get  worse.     I  was  growing  older  too— al- 
though I  never  grew  up— and  I  really  began  to  wonder 
whether  it  was  worth  going  on  with,  and  in  1894  I 
decided  it  wasn't.     In  thinking  about  what  I  should 
do  after  determining  to  give  up  riding  for  ever,  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  I'd  go  on  the  stage.     I  looked  about 
and  actually  had  something  in  view.     At  that  time, 
however,  I  had  an  unknov/n  friend  who  took  a  good 
deal  of  interest  in  me.     I  found  out  about  it  afterwards. 
It  was  he  who  told  me  to  stop  all  the  nonsense  about 
the  stage  and  to  go  on  trying  to  be  a  jockey.     I  shall 
always  be  grateful  to  him.     Charlie  Hanlon  and  George 
Rose   really   shaped    my   career.     Hanlon   made   me 
study  horses,  and  I  began  to  stand  better  with  myself 
and  not  to  wake  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night  ^and 
think  I  was  already  a  hopeless  failure.     It  wasn't  in 
the  stableyard  only  and  on  the  gallops  that  I  tried  to 
find  out  all  I  could.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  discovered 
the  "  monkey-on-the-stick  seat "  quite  by  accident  at 
the  Bay  District  Track. 

One  day,  when  I  and  Hughie  Penny,  who  was  then 
a  successful  jockey,  were  galloping  our  horses  to  the 
post,  my  horse  started  to  bolt,  and  in  trying  to  pull  him 
up  I  got  up  out  of  the  saddle  and  on  to  his  neck. 


22 


Mr.  Charles  F.  Hanlon 


FINDING  OUT  THINGS 

Penny  started  laughing  at  the  figure  I  cut,  and  I 
laughed  louder  than  he,  but  I  couldn't  help  noticing 
that,  when  I  was  doing  that  neck  crouch,  the  horse's 
stride  seemed  to  be  freer,  and  that  it  was  easier  for  me 
too.  Before  that  I  had  seen  a  jockey,  named  Harry 
Griffin,  riding  with  short  stirrups  and  leaning  over  on 
the  horse.  As  he  was  the  best  jockey  of  the  day  I 
put  two  and  two  together  and  thought  there  must  be 
something  in  it,  and  I  began  to  think  it  out,  trying  all 
sorts  of  experiments  on  horses  at  home.  The  "  crouch 
seat,"  the  "monkey  mount,"  or  the  thousand  and 
one  other  ways  it  has  been  described,  was  the  result. 
Then  the  time  came  when  I  determined  to  put  it  into 
practice.  But  I  couldn't  screw  up  enough  courage  the 
first  time  I  had  a  chance.  I  kept  putting  it  off.  At 
last,  though,  I  did  really  spring  it  on  them.  Every- 
body laughed.  They  thought  I  had  turned  comedian. 
But  I  was  too  cocksure  to  be  discouraged.  I  was 
certain  that  I  was  on  the  right  track.  I  persevered, 
and  at  last  /  began  to  win  races  ! 

In  the  whole  of  my  experience  I  have  found  that 
a  boy  with  a  nervous  temperament  makes  the  best 
jockey.  He  is  quick  and  alert  to  take  in  a  situation, 
and  he  becomes  a  human  ferret,  finding  out  things  for 
himself.  The  Tod  Sloan  of  that  day  was  a  bundle  of 
nerves,  and  he  discovered  new  things  every  day.  I 
will  give  you  an  instance.  It  was  at  the  Ingleside  track 
at  San  Francisco  that  I  learned  that  a  horse  runs 
better  when  "  pocketed."  Of  course  it  is  rough  on 
the  nerves  of  a  rider,  but  the  horse  breathes  in  a  space 
where  the  air  doesn't  come  to  him  in  a  rush,  and  all  a 
rider  has  to  do  is  to  watch  his  chance  and  slip  through 
when  he  thinks  the  time  has  come  for  the  effort.  He 
will  find  his  mount  fresher  and  quicker  to  put  it  all  in. 
Another  thing  which  I  learned  about  the  same  time 

23 


TOD   SLOAN 

was  that,  however  tired  a  horse  may  be  in  a  race,  and 
no  matter  how  hard  it  may  be  for  his  rider  to  keep 
his  position,  yet  the  horse  will  take  on  new  energy  if  he 
gets  the  chance  to  go  through  a  gap  between  two  other 
horses  or  between  a  horse  and  the  rails.  I  have  studied 
horses  all  my  life  since  the  time  I  have  just  spoken  of, 
and  I  am  quite  sure  that  it's  a  kind  of  compelling 
instinct. 


24 


CHAPTER  III 

"  MONKEY   ON   THE   STICK  "   IN    PRACTICE 

Friendship  with  "Pittsburg  Phil"— Cork  Cutter  to  MilUonaire— 
QuaUties  which  helped  him  to  make  Three  Million  Dollars- 
American  Tick-tacking— Determination  to  go  East 

After  the  successes  spoken  of  at  the  end  of  1894  I 
fell  sick  in  1895,  and  Mr  and  Mrs  Rose  brought  me  back 
to  Indiana  to  recover.  I  had  a  long  bad  time  of  it, 
but  I  got  well  enough  to  start  riding  again  at  the  State 
Fair  at  Sacramento  and  beat  everything  which  was 
fancied.  Everything  I  touched,  too,  turned  to  gold  ; 
talk  about  "Get-Rich-Quick  Walhngford";  he  was 
nothing  to  me,  and  I  had  chances  of  making  money  in 
speculation  right  outside  racing. 

In  the  autumn  of  1895  I  went  to  San  Francisco,  and 
it  was  there  that  I  first  met  "Pittsburg  Phil."  A 
straighter  man  never  existed  on  the  Turf.  I  have 
mentioned  that  he  began  life  as  a  cork  cutter;  his 
real  name  was  George  E.  Smith,  and  in  his  early  days, 
when  putting  in  all  he  knew  at  his  work,  he  could  never 
earn  more  than  one  dollar  twenty-five  cents — that 
is,  five  shillings  a  day.  "  P.  P."  occupied  a  place 
among  racing  notabilities  that  has  never  been  filled, 
and  probably  never  will,  and  he  made  a  vast  fortune 
despite  the  fact  that  he  was  never  liked  by  the  Jockey 
Club  members  and  was  made  to  feel  that  he  was  not 
desirable  to  them.  He  stuck  it  as  long  as  he  could, 
despite  all  the  terrible  difficulties  put  in  his  way.  The 
Club's  argument  was  that  he  was  a  bad  example  and 
did   harm  to  the  standing  of  racing.     Years  after  I 

25 


TOD   SLOAN 

remembered  all  this.  Things  happened  that  were 
kind  of  echoes  ! 

Now  I  was  always  a  great  friend  of  Phil.  All  the 
same,  in  common  with  others,  I  took  the  same  view  as 
the  Jockey  Club.  There  is  not  a  man  living,  how- 
ever, who  could  say  that  "  Pittsburg  Phil  "  was  ever 
guilty  of  a  dishonest  action.  I  was  never  tired  of 
studying  him,  and  could  find  new  points  about  him 
to  interest  me  every  day.  We  would  travel  together 
and  stay  ilogether,  but  I  never  knew  of  his  bets,  and 
very  few  others  did  either. 

It  was  rather  curious,  that  autumn,  that  all  the  other 
jockeys  were  up  against  me.  It  was  all  the  better 
for  me,  though,  because  they  lost  races  through  watch- 
ing me  too  much  and  not  attending  to  their  own  and 
other  horses.  I  had  already  heard  that  "  Pittsburg 
Phil  "  had  been  noting  me,  and  had  been  backing 
my  mounts.  Now,  Sam  Doggett  was  one  of  the 
two  jockeys  riding  for  him.  Evidently  Phil  wasn't 
satisfied  with  him  for  some  reason  or  other,  for  one 
afternoon  he  asked  me  if  I  would  ride  his  horse  next 
day.  I  did,  and  I  won,  and  ever  after  that  "  Pittsburg 
Phil  "  was  my  friend.  It  was  a  serious  set-back  for 
Doggett  though.  ^ 

I  rode  many  other  horses  for  Phil,  and  although 
we  lived  together  I  never  knew  beforehand  if  he  had 
backed  a  horse  I  was  to  ride,  or  whether  he  had  laid 
against  me.  He  would  never  tell,  me  nor  any  other 
man,  whether  he  had  won  or  lost,  and,  as  I  have  said, 
he  was  altogether  very  much  like  Charles  Hannam, 
in  England.  He  kept  his  own  counsel.  You  could 
never  tell  from  his  face  or  from  his  manner  after  a 
race  whether  things  had  gone  as  he  wanted  them  to. 
He  could  read  a  race  better  than  anyone  I  ever  knew. 
Many  a  time  he  would  notice  something  about  a  horse 

26 


'■  Pittsburg  Phil" 


PITTSBURG  PHIL 

which  finished  down  the  course,  and  after  the  race 
he  would  say  quietly  to  me :  "If  you  can  get  the 
mount  on  that  the  next  time  he  runs  he'll  win,"  and 
I  cannot  call  to  mind  any  instance  when  he  failed  to  be 
a  wonderful  prophet. 

It  was  absolutely  wrong  to  believe  one  of  the  stories 
— ^and  there  were  thousands  of  them  about — of  his 
"  method."  All  those  who  spoke  and  wrote  about  him 
said  he  betted  entirely  on  information  and  could  "  fix  " 
races  and  riders — and  trainers  too.  In  fact,  he  was 
said  to  have  been  a  perfect  bunch  of  tricks.  But  it 
was  all  untrue.  I  was  closer  to  him  than  any  other 
man.  He  would  think  and  talk  nothing  but  horse, 
and  no  one  knows  better  than  I  do  that  his  success 
was  entirely  due  to  his  judgment  and  level-headed- 
ness.  He  devoted  all  his  hours  to  a  study  of  racing, 
didn't  smoke  and  only  drank  a  little  white  wine. 

He  had  a  memory  too  wliich  was  always  an  envy 
to  me  ;  in  fact  his  mind  was  a  film  from  which  nothing 
could  be  blotted  out.  He  simply  was  his  own  handi- 
capper,  and  it  is  all  nonsense  about  his  employing 
an  army  of  men  to  get  news.  The  only  people  he 
employed  were  those  who  did  commissions  for  him. 

We  would  sit  down  night  after  night  and  talk  about 
such  a  lot  of  things,  and  I  enjoyed  drawing  him  out 
about  his  early  days,  and  then  he  would  get  every- 
thing out  of  me  that  I  had  to  tell ;  and  he  would 
encourage  me  to  go  on  and  on.  He  had  a  quiet  way 
of  convincing  me,  and  somehow  after  a  talk  with  him 
I  would  go  to  bed  happy,  and  dream  that  I  was  to  go 
east  to  New  York.  In  those  days  that  was  as  far  as 
my  ambition  reached. 

Phil's  own  early  story — I  got  it  in  snatches  from  him 
— was  that  when  he  was  following  his  humble  employ- 
ment he  used  to  read  the  papers  always,  and  saw  a 

27 


TOD   SLOAN 

picture  one  day  of  some  horses,  owned  by  the  Brothers 
Dwyer,  which  had  won.  There  was  a  lot  about  them 
that  morning,  and  then  the  next  day  he  saw  that 
another  horse,  owned  by  the  same  stable  and  ridden 
by  the  same  jockey,  Jimmy  McLaughlin,  had  won. 
This  gave  him  an  interest  in  the  subject  and  he  would 
never  miss  the  racing  news.  He  noted  what  owners 
and  jockeys  were  winning,  and  he  determined  finally 
to  have  a  try  at  betting  himself  and  went  to  a  pool- 
room, which  may  be  described,  for  those  who  don't 
know,  as  an  open  betting  "  Club." 

Well,  Phil  backed  the  Dwyer  horses,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  first  week  he  had  cleaned  up  over  a  hundred 
dollars.  After  that,  he  told  me,  "  I  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  betting  on  the  races  was  a  hell  of  a  game, 
and  a  darn  sight  better  than  cutting  corks,  so  I  threw 
up  my  job  and  told  my  mother  I  was  going  to  follow 
the  races." 

The  way  Phil  got  his  nickname  came  about  as 
follows.  In  those  days  in  America  it  wasn't  usual 
to  give  in  betting  more  than  just  a  short  anything  in 
the  way  of  identity,  so  he  gave  his  name  simply  as 
"  Phil,"  and  when  he  landed  in  New  York  with  forty 
dollars  in  his  pocket,  and  went  to  the  pool-rooms,  the 
name  stuck  to  him  ;  on  the  race-tracks  he  was  known 
as  "  Phil  from  Pittsburg."  He  went  right  ahead,  and 
left  over  three  million  dollars  when  he  died.  For 
fifteen  years  he  was  always  plunging,  and  in  his  time 
he  pulled  off  the  biggest  strokes  in  the  country,  betting 
as  much  sometimes  as  fifty  thousand  dollars  on  a  race. 
Bookmakers  became  afraid  of  him,  and  he  had  to  be 
a  bit  clever  in  the  way  of  putting  his  money  down. 
One  day  out  in  California,  when  he  wanted  to  make 
a  big  bet  on  a  certain  horse,  I  saw  him  climb  up  behind 
Johnny  Coleman's  book.     "  I  want  to  bet  a  thousand 

28 


CORK  CUTTER  TO  MILLIONAIRE 

on  this  one,  Johnny,"  he  said  ;  "  so  if  you'll  take  it 
I'll  place  it  all  with  you  instead  of  going  round  and 
causing  a  panic."  Coleman  looked  round,  and  seeing 
better  prices  marked  than  he  was  giving  didn't 
hesitate  to  take  Phil's  thousand.  Then  he  sent  his 
commissioners  out  to  hedge  it  off,  but  beforehand 
Phil  had  posted  his  men  at  other  books  and  had 
arranged  the  signal  of  raising  his  hat  the  minute  he 
got  the  money  down  with  Coleman.  Off  went  the  hat, 
and  his  men  helped  themselves,  and  when  Coleman's 
runners  went  to  lay  it  off  the  odds  had  shortened  very 
much.  They  rushed  back,  and  Coleman  was  hopping 
mad,  for  he'd  seen  through  the  game  right  away.  Of 
course  the  horse  won,  and  that  day  Phil  cleaned  up 
about  one  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

As  I  have  said,  Phil  would  never  tell  anyone — not 
even  me— what  he  was  going  to  do.  An  instance  of 
this,  and  of  how  he  could  hug  his  judgment  to  him- 
self, was  when  we  went  to  see  the  Fitzsimmons-Corbett 
fight  at  Carson  City.  We  went  on  a  special  train,  and 
I  had  no  idea  what  he  was  going  to  do  until  we  were 
at  the  ring-side.  Then  he  told  me  he  was  going  to 
back  Fitz.  I  begged  him  not  to,  and  the  others 
agreed  with  me,  but  he  stuck  to  his  opinion,  and  after 
the  men  got  in  the  ring  and  started  fighting  he  took 
all  the  money  that  was  offered  him— and  there  was 
a  lot  of  it,  I  can  tell  you.  Johnny  O'Neil  bet  him  a 
thousand  dollars  where  I  wouldn't  have  given  him 
five  cents  for  his  chance,  and  I  told  him  so.  I  even 
wanted  to  bet  with  him  myself  that  Corbett  would 
win,  but  he  wouldn't  bet  with  me.  I  shall  have  a  great 
deal  more  to  say  about  Corbett  when  I  come  to  deal 
with  my  friendship  for  him.  In  this  fight  it  will  be 
recalled  that  Corbett  took  a  strong  lead  in  the  early 
rounds  and  drew  a  lot  of  blood  from  Fitz.     In  the 

29 


TOD    SLOAN 

fourteenth  round,  after  Corbett  had  landed  a  left- 
hand  hook  on  Bob's  jaw,  Fitz  got  his  right  in,  and  then 
a  little  later  Fitz  gets  in  what  was  described  by  the 
referee  as  a  "  sort  of  cross  between  a  hook  and  an 
upper-cut  to  a  point  nearer  to  the  pit  of  the  stomach 
than  under  the  heart."  Jim's  face  was  terrible  with 
the  agony  he  was  suffering :  he  was  beaten.  "  Pitts- 
burg Phil  "  won  "  enough. 


5J 


I  could  never  get  away  from  the  idea  that  I  ought 
to  go  east.  I  had  been  doing  so  well  where  I  was. 
I  would  discuss  it  with  Phil,  and  in  after  years  it  was 
said  that  it  was  he  who  had  brought  me  to  New  York. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  California,  after  I  had  ridden  for 
him,  and  he  had  said  nice  things  about  my  bringing 
him  winners,  he  gave  me  strong  advice  not  to  go  to 
New  York. 

"  It's  a  different  game  there,  son,"  he  said.  "  You 
are  known  here,  and  you  have  confidence  in  yourself, 
but  you'll  find  it  a  cold  proposition  there." 

"  That's  all  right,  Mr  Smith,"  I  told  him  ;  "  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  go,  and  when  they  begin,  and 
the  flag  falls  at  Morris  Park,  you'll  find  me  on  deck." 

And  he  did. 


30 


CHAPTER  IV 

START   IN   NEW   YORK 

A  Westerner  Grafting— Meeting  Jack  MacDonald— A  Three-handed 
Match— "  Mac's '-'-  Suspicions— Getting  Even— Days  and  Nights 
with  Mr  Fleischman— Control  of  Stable 

What  was  practically  my  permanent  arrival  in  the 
East  brought  no  brass  bands  on  the  scene,  and  the 
newspapers  took  no  kind  of  notice  of  me.  Although 
I  had  been  successful  in  other  places  they  saw  no 
reason  to  believe  in  me. 

To  begin  with  I  went  out  to  live  at  the  Woodman- 
stone  Inn  in  Westchester  near  the  old  Morris  Park 
track  and  hung  about  living  quietly  on  the  off- 
chance  of  getting  a  mount ;  but  no  one  hurried 
to  offer  me  one.  I  was  comfortable  about  money, 
at  all  events,  for  a  few  months  ahead.  The  people 
in  the  neighbourhood  gave  me  the  cold  shoulder. 
They  thought  I  was  simply  there  hustling  and  trying 
to  get  a  chance  ride.  In  fact  one  of  them  described 
me  as  a  "bum  jockey  from  the  West  who  was 
grafting." 

At  that  time  there  were  six  or  seven  hundred  horses 
being  trained  in  the  district  and  I  would  go  out  in  the 
morning  and  keep  myself  fit  by  riding  some  of  them. 
Nothing  turned  up  for  a  time,  but  I  gritted  my  teeth 
and  determined  to  get  there.  One  day  two  odd  rides 
came  my  way.  I  knew  nothing  about  either  of  them, 
and  didn't  see  the  owners.  The  first  was  a  horse  named 
Runaway.  I  won  on  him  and  then  got  up  on  the 
second,  a  filly  belonging  to  Mr  MacDonald.     She  was 

31 


TOD  SLOAN 

an  outsider  and  I  got  her  home  comfortably.  That 
began  a  good  season. 

A  day  or  two  after  I  was  going  by  train  to  West- 
chester from  New  York.  I  was  reading  the  paper 
taking  no  notice  of  anyone  when  a  man  opposite  me 
leaned  over  and  said  :  "  How  did  that  filly  run  with 
you  the  day  before  yesterday  ?  " 

Hardly  looking  up  from  my  paper  I  cut  him  short 
by  answering  :  "  All  right  I  suppose,"  and  went  on 
reading,  intending  to  be  silent  if  he  put  another 
question.  I  had  previous  experience  of  being  asked 
things  by  strangers  and  I  wouldn't  have  minded 
showing  a  little  bad  manners  if  this  stranger  had 
become  too  inquisitive.  When  I  got  out  at  West- 
chester the  stranger  got  out  also. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  was  the  next  thing  I 
heard.  It  was  the  stranger,  who  then  took  a  roll  of 
hundred-dollar  bills  out  of  his  pocket  and  slipped 
three  of  them  into  my  hand  :  "  I'm  Mr  MacDonald  : 
that  was  my  filly  you  rode." 

I  was  taken  aback  of  course  and  began  to  apologise 
saying  :  "  If  I  had  known  who  you  were  of  course  I 
wouldn't  have  been  so  rude." 

In  reply  Mr  MacDonald  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  : 
"  I  like  you  all  the  better  for  it,  and  you  can  ride  for 
me  whenever  you  like." 

That  was  the  beginning  of  a  long  association,  and  I 
think  it  was  a  regret  to  both  of  us  when  we  fell  out  two 
years  later.  It  came  about  like  this  :  There  was  a 
three  horse  race  at  Sheepshead  Bay.  MacDonald  had 
a  mare  called,  I  believe.  Intermission,  and  she  had  to 
beat  Hamilton  and  another  named  Clifford,  a  100  to  1 
on  certainty.  MacDonald  thought  he  was  sure  to 
be  second  with  his.  He  got  wind  that  "  Pittsburg 
Phil  "  was  wagering  heavily  on  Hamilton  to  beat  his 

32 


MACDONALD'S  DISTRUST 

mare  for  second  place,  but  as  I  have  already  men- 
tioned Phil  never  told  me  what  he  was  doing,  and  I 
had  no  more  idea  than  the  dead  which  he  had  backed. 
As  I  learnt  several  days  later  his  money,  thousands 
atter  thousands  of  dollars,  was  piled  on  Hamilton  to  be 
second. 

Thinking  that  I  knew  all  about  it,  MacDonald  went 
to  the  Stewards  and  asked  permission  to  take  me  off 
his  mare  and  put  up  another  jockey  ;  but  he  was  told 
that  they  saw  no  sufficient  reason  why  they  should, 
but  they  would  watch  the  race  very  closely  and  if 
they  saw  anything  peculiar  they  would  be  the  first  to 
take  action.  He  argued,  but  all  his  talk  was  no  good  ; 
they  had  spoken  the  last  word.  Nothing  was  said 
to  me  by  ^"  Mac  "  and  I  won  the  place  for  him. 

"  Mac  "  came  to  me  directly  after  the  race  :  "  That's 
all  right,  Tod  ;  you  did  ride  a  good  race  !  I  thought 
she'd  beat  Hamilton,  but  if  it  hadn't  been  for  your 
riding  she  wouldn't  have  done  it." 

Five  days  after  two  prominent  owners  went  to  my 
principal  employer,  Mr  Fleischman,  and  told  him  to 
put  me  wise  about  what  Jack  MacDonald  had  done 
adding  that  before  Mac  had  gone  to  the  Stewards  he 
had  told  one  of  them  that  it  was  quite  certain  that  Tod 
was  not  going  to  do  his  best.     And  all  the  time  I  had 
It  all  dead  set  to  beat  Hamilton  !     Mr  Fleischman  did 
as  was  suggested,  and  as  a  consequence  I  went  up  to 
Mac  "  on  the  race-track  directly  afterwards  and  asked 
him  why  he  did  it,  and  he  tried  to  explain  to  me  that 
the  race  had  meant  such  a  lot  to  him,  and  as  "  Pitts- 
burg Phil  "  "  your  intimate  friend  "  had  put  so  much 
money   on    Hamilton   he   was    afraid    it    might    be 
a   great   temptation   to   me   to   do   my   pal   a   good 
turn.  ^ 

I  told  him  that  I  didn't  want  to  know  him  again  and 
*^  33 


TOD  SLOAN 

asked  him  not  to  speak  to  me  and  that  in  any  circum- 
stances I  would  not  ride  for  him  any  more. 

All  the  same  I  determined  to  get  even  with  him  m 
some  little  way  if  it  took  me  a  year  or  two,  and  one  day 
I  had  my  chance.  I  ran  him  up  seventeen  hundred 
dollars  over  something  he  had  won  with  m  a  selling 
race  He  had  a  lot  of  niggers  working  for  him,  and  one 
of  them  who  was  standing  by  bleated  :  "  Don't  run 
him  up  Tod,"  and  Charles  Quinn  who  was  near  said  the 
same  thing.  My  answer  was  :  "  Wiy  shouldn't  I  go 
against  that  policeman  :  '  Mac  '  would  be  a  dead  cop 
if  he  had  his  club  and  star  :  he  looks  lonesome  without 

a  uniform."  ^-  n  j 

Of  course  "  Mac  "  was  wild,  but  I  felt  satisfied. 
It  was  quite  against  the  rules  for  a  jockey  to  bid,  but 

the  Stewards  never  called  me  up  nor  put  a  question 

about  it  at  all.  i,  4.  „^ 

I  never  knew  what  Phil  lost  over  Hamilton,  but  as 
there  were  about  two  hundred  bookmakers  there  that 
day,  and  everyone  went  mad  gambling,  I  should  say 
that  it  must  have  been  a  big  order.  However  I  can 
remember  many  good  things  about  MacDonald  and 
only  tell  what  I  have  because  many  m  America  will 
remember  all  about  it.  „  ^       j      j 

It  was  later  in  the  season  when  I  first  met  and  rode 
for  Mr  Charles  Fleischman,  a  wealthy  owner  with  a 
very  large  string  of  horses  in  training.  He  secured 
first  call  on  me.  His  patronage  to  begin  with  and  his 
friendship  and  intimacy  with  me  afterwards  make  one 
of  the  happiest  memories  of  my  life.  He  was  a  man  of 
about  sixty-six,  owning  a  beautiful  yacht,  the  ^fl- 
watha.  He  had  two  sons,  Julius  and  Max,  who  at  that 
time  did  not  take  any  active  part  in  racing.  Mr 
Fleischman  would  glory  in  sitting  up  half  the  mght 
gambling.    His  peculiarity,  or  rather  amusement,  was 


SITTING  UP  ALL  NIGHT 

to  be  taken  for  a  mug,  and  when  he  was  gambling  and 

had  perhaps  won  seven  or  eight  thousand  dollars  he 

would  never  stop  playing  until  he  had  lost  all  he  had 

won,  or  had  given  it  away.     We  used  in  those  days  to 

play  at  Daly's  gambling-house  in  29th   Street,  New 

York,  and  sometimes  I  would  be  three  or  four  thousand 

dollars  to  the  bad,  but  it  would  never  occur  to  him 

that  he  should  help  me  out  at  all,  although  he  was 

always  most  liberal  in  other  things.     Apart  from  a 

personal  regard  for  me— in  fact,  he  treated  me  like  his 

own  son— he  liked  me  for  sitting  up  all  night  with  him 

and  not  wanting  to  go  to  bed.     Sometimes  I  would 

go  to  the  length  of  saying  that  he  couldn't  expect  me 

to  do  my  best  on  his  horses  the  next  day,  but  he  would 

answer  that  it  didn't  matter  a  bit.     We  would  drive 

down  at  three  or  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  the 

bay  in  a  buggy  or  waggon,  and  go  aboard  the  Hiawatha 

for  three  hours'  sleep. 

In  that  first  season  I  was  with  him  I  found  that 
he  had  determined  to  quit  racing  before  I  joined  him, 
for  he  felt  he  wasn't  getting  a  proper  return  for  his 
money.  But  all  the  time  he  was  dead  keen  on  the 
game.  He  would  talk  it  out  with  me  all  the  time  we 
were  together.  I  remember  him  as  the  dearest  old 
man  and  so  amiable  that  my  affection  for  him  grew 
every  week.  One  day  he  told  me  that  he  would  go  on 
for  another  season  if  I  would  sign  on  again  as  first 
joc^cey  for  the  stable  and  I  agreed  on  certain  con- 
ditions. 

"  The  conditions  being  money  ?  "  he  asked. 

^'^'  No,  it  isn't  that,"  I  explained. 

"  Well  let's  deal  with  the  money  first  :  I'll  give 
you  twelve  thousand  dollars  retainer.  Is  that 
enough  ?  " 

"More    than   enough,    Mr    Fleischman  j    but    my 

35 


TOD  SLOAN 

conditions  are  that  I  have  full  control  of  the  stable 
and  that  a  new  trainer  shall  be  brought  m." 

He  agreed  at  once,  and  I  engaged  Tom  Welch,  a 
real  honest  trainer  of  horses— now  located  m  France— 
and  a  number  of  new  hands.  Mr  Fleischman  had  got 
rid  of  his  agent  for  the  stable,  and  his  nephew  William 
Fleischman  came  to  me  saying  that  I  might  suggest 
him  for  the  job  and  he  got  it.  We  had  a  splendid 
start  the  next  season,  winning  race  after  race,  and 
everything  went  as  smoothly  as  could  be  wished. 
Unhappily,  however,  the  poor  man  didn't  live  to  see 
the  big  things  we  did  with  his  horses.  With  his  death 
there  was  a  doubt  for  a  moment  what  would  happen 
with  the  stable,  but  luckily  his  sons  decided  to  carry 

it  on.  ,     ,,    1  .     £ 

At  one  time  Mr  Fleischman,  and  all  the  rest  ot  us, 

thought  that  Max  would  turn  out  a  regular  "  sport, 

but  he  never  carried  out  the  promise.     He  took  most 

interest  in  the  business  and  the  yacht. 

Old  Mr  Fleischman,  apart  from  his  gambling  m  the 
Faro  banks,  would  bet  on  every  race  of  the  day  on  the 
course,  and  no  matter  what  he  was  told  would  seldom 
back  another  horse  if  I  had  a  mount.  I  put  it  to  him 
that  a  man  was  liable  to  go  broke  doing  that,  but  he 
would  never  pay  any  attention.  He  would  answer  : 
"  Look  at  the  fun  I  have  had  !  Never  mmd  :  it  i 
have  lost  to-day,  I'll  bet  like  hell  on  you  to-morrow. 
I  never  went  to  see  him  at  Cincinnati  but  I  have  been 
to  his  country  home  in  the  Catskills. 

When  he  came  to  New  York  for  ten  or  twelve  days 
for  the  racing  he  would  smoke  a  little  and  drmk  a  little 
and  would  order  a  good  dinner,  but  he  would  never 
give  the  cook  a  chance  ;  he'd  hurry  over  the  mea  too 
much,  looking  again  and  again  at  his  watch.  All  he 
wanted  was  to  get  to  the  gambling-tables.     Little 

36 


MR  FLEISCHMAN'S  FORTUNE 

did  I  think  when  I  used  to  go  to  the  grocery  store 
when  a  kid  to  buy  a  tin-foil  packet  of  Fleischman's 
Compressed  Yeast  that  later  on  I  should  be  riding 
for  him  and  be  his  intimate  friend.  His  firm  made 
a  deal  of  money  out  of  the  wastage  from  the  manu- 
facture of  the  yeast.  Especially  vinegar  and  alcohol, 
I  believe.  I  know  the  stable  used  to  be  able  to 
get  a  demijohn  of  the  alcohol — ^two  or  three  gallons — 
the  stuff  they  use  on  horses  after  gallops,  for  the 
equivalent  of  a  shilling. 

In  spite  of  his  gambling  Charles  Fleischman  left 
between  fifteen  and  twenty  million  dollars. 


37 


CHAPTER   V 
w.  c.  Whitney's  liberality 

His  First  Good  Horse— Heavy  Bettor— A  Wonderful  Futurity— 
Fourteen-Thousand-DoUar  Present— Getting  me  out  of  a  Bad 
Deal— Cablegram  from  Lord  WiUiam  Beresford 

I  FIRST  met  Mr  William  C.  Whitney  at  the  time  that 
he  had  second  call  on  me.  It  was  in  1898.  He  had 
first  call  on  me  the  following  year  after  my  contract 
with  Fleischman  and  Featherstone. 

W.  C.  Whitney  will  be  remembered  as  having  been 
the  most  popular  man  in  American  racing.  As  far  as 
racing  was  concerned  I  want  to  say  right  here  that  he 
knew  very  little  about  horses  and  he  must  have  sunk 
a  stack  of  money  in  his  racing  ventures.  He  didn^t 
become  interested  in  the  Turf  until  late  in  hfe,  and  his 
career  did  not  after  all  extend  over  so  many  years. 
I  have  always  said  that  to  know  horses  intimately  you 
must  be  raised  with  them.  Of  course  his  son  Harry 
Payne  Whitney  has  forgotten  more  than  his  father 
ever  knew,  for  he  has  been  round  among  horses,  hunt- 
ing, driving,  riding  and  racing,  ever  since  he  was  a  boy. 

It  was  John  E.  Madden  who  was  principally  re- 
sponsible for  Mr  Whitney  going  on  the  Turf.  Madden 
has  bred  and  raced  more  good  horses  than  any  other 
man  in  America  excepting  James  R.  Keene.  Madden 
saw  to  it  that  Mr  Whitney  started  well.  If  I  remember 
correctly,  Hamburg  was  the  first  big  purchase  Mr 
Whitney  made,  and  that  was  due  to  Madden,  although 
I  can  take  some  credit  for  it,  for  I  told  Mr  Whitney 
when  he  asked   me  that   Hamburg  was   worth   any 

38 


PURCHASE  OF  MARTHA 

price  he  would  pay  for  him  ;  and,  although  it  may- 
sound  funny  to  some  people,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say 
that  Hamburg,  with  the  possible  '.exception  of  Santoi, 
was  the  only  great  race -horse  I  ever  rode.  He  was  one 
of  the  sweetest-dispositioned  horses  that  ever  raced. 
You  could  place  him  anywhere  you  liked  and  he  would 
always  do  his  best.  He  loved  to  race,  as  every  good 
thoroughbred  does,  and  you  never  saw  such  a  beggar 
to  do  his  level  best  under  all  conditions,  and  he  had 
none  of  that  devil  you  meet  with  in  some  of  the  greatest. 
I  was  never  beaten  on  him. 

When  he  had  been  on  the  Turf  a  little  while  Mr 
Whitney,  although  he  loved  the  sport  for  its  own  sake 
as  much  as  any  man  I  have  ever  knoAvn,  began  to 
bet  very  heavily.  He  liked  to  win,  and  would  say  so, 
but  he  never  talked  of  winnings  or  losses,  and  not  a 
soul  could  tell  how  he  stood  after  a  race. 

Another  purchase  I  advised  Mr  Whitney  about,  and 
one  that  made  a  bit  of  history,  was  a  little  mare  named 
Martha.  He  would  pay  any  price  for  a  horse  that  I 
said  was  worth  while,  and  I  had  told  him  at  Saratoga 
that  Martha  was  sure  to  win  back  her  purchase  money, 
and  he  answered  :  "  All  right ;  go  ahead  and  buy  her." 
I  did,  and  she  more  than  won  herself  out.  The  sequel 
of  it  may  as  well  be  told  here.  Martha  turned  out 
to  be  one  of  the  best  brood  mares  in  America.  Two 
or  three  years  afterwards  I  had  been  riding  in 
Liverpool — in  England  of  course — and  on  returning 
to  London  I  found  a  message  telling  me  to  call  on 
Mr  Wliitney  at  the  Bristol.  I  had  just  ridden  a  mare 
called  Maluma  in  the  Liverpool  Cup,  and  got  the  only 
real  bad  fall  of  my  life.  My  right  ear  was  almost  torn 
off  and  my  face  so  scratched  and  cut  that  it  looked 
as  if  someone  had  used  a  currycomb  on  it.  A  great 
surgeon  at  Liverpool,  Sir  Tut  well  Thomas,  had  sewn 

39 


TOD  SLOAN 

my  ear  on  again,  and  I  appeared  before  Mr  WTiitney 
with  my  head  in  bandages  and  one  eye  closed.  He 
looked  at  me  for  a  minute  and  then  laughed  and  said  : 
"  Well,  how  does  the  other  fellow  look  ?  " 

It  appeared  that  he  had  sent  for  me  to  ask  if  I  would 
like  to  go  to  America  to  ride  his  horse  in  the  Futurity, 
the  richest  race  in  America,  but  seeing  me  in  such  bad 
shape  he  said  he  supposed  there  could  be  no  chance 
of  my  caring  for  such  a  journey. 

"  Never  mind  about  the  chance,"  I  answered.  "  I'll 
go  all  right  and  I  shall  be  able  to  ride." 

He  persisted  in  saying  that  he  didn't  think  I  would 
be  able  to  manage  it,  especially  as  the  Futurity  was 
only  about  two  weeks  off,  but  he  gave  me  five  thousand 
dollars  for  my  expenses  and  I  went  aboard  ship. 

Well,  I  rode  his  colt  Ballyhoo  Bey  and  won  the 
Futurity.  It  was  a  great  regret  to  me  that  Mr  Whitney 
was  on  the  ocean  at  the  time  and  didn't  see  the  race. 
Then  I  rode  the  same  colt  in  the  Flatbush  a  week  later 
and  won  again.  It  was  not  until  after  that  that  I 
heard  that  Martha,  the  little  mare  I  had  bought  for 
him  at  Saratoga,  was  the  dam  of  Ballyhoo  Bey.  Speak- 
ing of  that  same  Flatbush  it  was  about  the  funniest 
race  I  ever  rode  in  or  heard  of.  Some  of  the  other 
jockeys  had  framed  it  to  "  do  me  up."  I  had  more 
than  an  inkling  of  it  myself  already  and  Winnie 
O'Connor,  who  did  not  have  a  mount  in  the  race,  came 
to  warn  me.  "  These  boys  think  you  are  a  butt-in, 
Tod,"  he  said  ;  *'  and  they  are  going  to  try  and  fix 
you  ;  be  on  your  guard."  I  told  him  I  could  take  care 
of  myself  and  when  we  went  to  the  post  I  asked  the 
starter  Christopher  Fitzgerald  about  it. 

"  I  have  heard  a  rumour  of  some  such  thing,"  he 
said.  Then  he  made  a  little  speech  to  the  jockeys : 
"  If  I  see  the  slightest  thing  out  of  the  way  here  I'll 

40 


BANK  ROLL  AND  WATCH 

report  the  matter  to  the  Stewards  and  I  tell  you  it  will 
go  hard  with  the  boys  who  are  guilty."  The  start  was 
good,  and  I  dropped  in  behind  two  other  horses,  with 
Spencer  on  Tommy  Atkins  just  a  little  behind  me. 
I  stayed  in  the  "  pocket  "  taking  my  time,  and  I  saw 
through  the  trick  by  the  way  the  two  in  front  kept 
looking  back  at  me.  On  we  went,  and  just  before  we 
crossed  the  main  track  I  moved  up  as  if  I  wanted  to 
go  through.  They  parted  immediately,  but  instead  of 
going  into  the  opening  I  pulled  out  to  the  right  and 
dashed  ahead.  Spencer  fell  into  the  trap  laid  for  me  : 
he  tried  to  dash  through  the  gap  and  the  two  riders 
in  front  closing  in  on  him  Tommy  Atkins  went  dowTi 
on  his  knees  with  his  nose  to  the  ground  and  I  was 
away  off  in  front.  Tommy  Atkins  was  the  best  horse 
in  the  race  and  should  have  won  without  an  effort,  for 
although  he  lost  twenty-five  lengths  by  that  stumble 
I  only  beat  him  a  head.  When  he  got  home  after  that 
race  Mr  ^Vhitney  was  one  of  the  most  delighted  men  I 
ever  saw.  He  and  I  walked  around  the  lawn  behind 
the  club-house  and  he  made  me  sit  down  with  him  on  a 
bench. 

"  I  haven't  given  you  anything  for  winning  the 
Futurity,"  he  said,  "  except  that  five  thousand  dollars 
you  had  in  London  for  travelling  expenses.  See,  I'll 
give  you  all  I  have  in  my  pocket,"  and  he  pulled  out 
a  roll  of  notes  and  handed  nine  thousand  dollars  to 
me  and  then,  after  a  pause,  he  took  out  his  watch  and 
gave  me  that  too.  "  Now  you  have  all  I've  got,"  he 
added,  and  shook  my  hand.     What  a  man  ! 

Mr  Whitney  was  the  most  even-tempered  I  have 
ever  known,  and  he  had  keen  judgment.  No  wonder 
we  all  liked  to  serve  him  well.  While  he  was  the  soul 
of  geniality  he  was  no  "  handshaker,"  and  everyone 
who  had  dealings  with  him  knew  that  he  wasn't  to 

41 


TOD  SLOAN 

be  "  buncoed."  I  have  spoken  of  his  great  generosity 
and  one  instance  of  it  was  when  one  day  I  went  to  his 
house  on  Fifth  Avenue.  After  a  Httle  casual  talk  and 
looking  round  at  his  pictures  and  furniture  I  told  him 
I  was  in  a  hole  :  "  I  have  been  gambling  in  stocks  and 
I'm  in  bad."  A  man  had  told  Ned  Gilmore,  Charlie 
Hoyt  and  me  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  that  sugar 
would  go  to  a  certain  point.  I  had  taken  the  tip  and 
as  a  result  I  was  pretty  nearly  fifty  thousand  dollars 
to  the  bad. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  gambled  in  stocks,  Sloan,"  Mr 
Whitney  answered  ;  "  and  I  am  sorry  to  hear  of  it 
now.  That  is  a  game  you  should  keep  away  from. 
You  mustn't  expect  me  to  approve  of  it ;  stick  to  your 
own  business."  Just  as  I  was  going  away  he  added  : 
"  I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  you,  but  if  you  buy  about 
five  thousand  shares  of  American  Tobacco  and  go  to 
sleep  on  the  deal  until  there  is  a  ten  points'  rise  I  think 
you  may  pull  out  all  right,  but,  mind  you,  I  guarantee 
nothing.     Cut  it  all  out  is  my  advice  to  you." 

I  bought  the  Tobacco  stock,  leaving  a  limit  of  ten 
points,  and  went  to  California.  And  then  one  day 
when  I  was  standing  in  a  duck  marsh  during  a  day's 
shooting  I  was  handed  a  telegram  telling  me  I  had 
made  a  hundred  and  ten  thousand  dollars.  My  luck 
was  talked  about  and  much  exaggerated  at  the  time. 
I  was  reported  to  have  cleaned  up  half-a-million  dollars 
but  the  figure  I  give  is  exact. 

Although  he  became  so  keen  on  racing  Mr  Whitney 
never  came  out  to  the  stables  in  the  early  morning  at 
the  hour  when  Mr  Keene  and  other  big  owners  we  all 
know  like  to  see  the  horses  gallop,  but  he  loved  to  be 
around  horses,  and  would  drive  over  in  the  afternoon 
and  loaf  about  looking  over  the  boxes  and  chatting 
with  the  stable-boys.     Every  one  of  them  would  have 

42 


INVITATION  TO  ENGLAND 

done  anything  for  him.  I  think  his  favourite  track 
was  Saratoga  and  quite  early  in  his  racing  days  he 
determined  to  build  it  up.  He  often  told  me  he 
intended  to  make  a  Newmarket  of  it  and  it  was  mainly 
due  to  him  that  it  became  so  successful.  He  built 
up  the  Turf  after  his  experiences  in  England  ;  he  was 
always  talking  of  the  English  ways  of  doing  things. 

The  whole  story  about  my  first  experiences  in 
England  will  be  told  later,  but  in  1897,  before  going 
away  from  Liverpool,  Lord  William  Beresford  said  he 
wanted  me  to  come  over  for  the  autumn  of  1898.  I 
answered  :  "If  you  want  me  to  come,  cable  to  Mr 
Whitney."  They  did  not  know  each  other.  The 
result  was  that  one  day  at  Saratoga,  in  1898,  Mr 
Wliitney  sent  for  me  :  "  Sloan,  I  have  just  received 
a  letter  from  Lord  William  Beresford  asking  me  if 
I  can  let  you  go  to  England."  He  read  me  a  sentence  : 
" '  The  opportunity  looks  big  for  Sloan  to  come :  we 
have  some  good  horses.'  " 

Now  I  was  carrying  a  cable  from  Lord  William  in 
my  pocket  but  I  had  felt  backward  about  asking  Mr 
Whitney  to  release  me  and  I  told  him  so.  "  Well,"  he 
replied,  "  Lord  William  is  a  fine  fellow,  and  I  would 
like  to  oblige  him,  so  if  you  want  to  go  we  will  try  and 
get  along  without  you.  Stay  for  the  Futurity  and 
after  that  you  can  go  if  you  are  still  of  the  same  mind 
— ^that  is,  of  course,  if  Mr  Julius  Fleischman  gives 
permission." 

I  thanked  him  and  he  wished  me  good  luck,  saying 
he  might  go  to  England  himself.  And  he  did,  and  I 
introduced  Lord  William  and  Mr  Whitney  to  each 
other  at  Newmarket.  He  bought  out  Pierre  Lorillard's 
interest  in  the  stable  and  he  and  Lord  William  went 
into  partnership  and  I  rode  for  them.  I  am  always 
thinking  of  him,  and  everyone  knows  what  racing  lost 

43 


TOD  SLOAN 

in  America  when  he  died.     Racing  might  not  have  had 
the  set-back  which  it  did  had  he  Hved. 

While  I  have  said  that  Mr  Wliitney  was  fond  of 
betting  I  must  add  he  was  one  of  those  men  hke  the 
late  King  Edward,  Lord  Dunraven,  and  others,  who 
would  rather  any  horse  of  theirs  won  a  race  purely  for 
the  pleasure  of  beating  the  other  horses  than  win 
thousands  simply  by  betting.  I  believe  that  Mr 
Wliitney  would  have  tried  if  necessary  to  keep  racing 
going  without  a  single  wager  on  a  single  track.  But 
of  course  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  that  racing  could 
go  on  without  betting. 


44 


CHAPTER    VI 

FIRST  TRIP  TO  ENGLAND 

Misery  in  London — Cold  Shoulder  at  Newmarket — My  First  Gallop — 
Preparing  St  Cloud  II. — Covering  Fifteen  Miles — First  Appearance 
on  a  Course — Beating  the  Gate — Losing  yet  winning  the  Cambridge- 
shire— Lord  William's  Kindness — A  Week  of  Successes 

Later  on  there  will  be  scores  of  characters  I  have  met 
and  horses  I  have  ridden  to  talk  about,  but  as  I  finished 
up  my  last  chapter  by  writing  about  my  English  career 
it  might  perhaps  be  a  good  thing  to  tell  here  how  I 
made  my  first  start  for  London  and  my  innings  as  a 
jockey  in  England  and  France  from  1897  to  1900. 

In  the  summer  of  1897  Mr  James  R.  Keene  sent  for 
me  to  his  down-town  office  in  New  York.  "  Sloan," 
he  said,  "  I've  got  a  horse,  St  Cloud  II.,  in  the  Cesare- 
witch  and  the  Cambridgeshire.  My  trainer,  Pincus, 
thinks  he  has  a  good  chance.  I  have  been  thinking 
over  the  advantage  of  getting  you  to  ride  him.  Would 
you  like  to  go  over  to  England  ?  " 

It  didn't  take  me  long  to  answer  :  "I  certainly 
would." 

"  How  soon  could  you  go  ?  " 

"  To-morrow." 

"  Well  I  don't  want  you  to  decide  so  quickly." 

However,  the  matter  was  settled  then  and  there, 
and  I  sailed  on  the  following  Wednesday,  17th 
September,  on  the  Majestic^  and  landed  in  England 
with  Ed.  Gaines,  the  walking  man,  whom  I  took  with 
me.  There  was  no  one  to  meet  me,  and  feeling  as 
lonely  and  out  of  the  swim  as  a  fish  on  land  I  went 

45 


TOD  SLOAN 

to  the  Savoy  Hotel.  I  knew  absolutely  no  one,  not 
even  Mr  Keene's  trainer,  Jake  Pincus,  who  although 
American  had  by  long  residence  been  turned  into  a 
regular  Britisher.  Pincus  of  course  was  the  man 
who  trained  Iroquois,  the  only  American  horse  who 
ever  won  an  English  Derby.  He  was  at  one  time  a 
rider  himself. 

How  well  I  remember  roaming  round  that  hotel ! 
It  all  seemed  so  cheerless  and  I  was  so  homesick  that 
I  nearly  cried.  I  felt  better  when  I  went  and  had 
dinner  at  the  old  Simpson's  Restaurant.  It  was  the 
food  I  think  which  made  me  feel  a  bit  as  if  I  was  having 
a  home  meal.  In  those  days,  especially  when  I  was 
working,  I  could  have  eaten  a  horse  I  had  such  an 
appetite,  and  I  didn't  put  on  extra  weight  through  it, 
either.  When  the  time  came  for  going  to  bed  every- 
thing was  so  lonesome  that  I  nearly  found  myself 
looking  at   steamship   time-tables. 

However  I  had  found  out  where  Newmarket  was 
and  how  to  get  there  and  went  there  two  days  after 
my  arrival.  On  arrival  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  go 
straight  to  see  Mr  Pincus  who  lived  in  some  rooms 
over  a  public-house  kept  by  Martin.  He  had  heard 
of  my  coming,  but  at  the  same  time  I  can't  say  that 
he  was  inclined  to  take  any  particular  interest  in  me  ; 
in  fact  the  name  "  Tod  Sloan  "  spelt  nothing  to  him. 
We  talked  a  bit  and  I  found  he  had  become  more 
English  than  American.  They  were  going  to  gallop 
St  Cloud  II.  the  next  morning,  he  told  me,  and  added 
that  I  had  better  be  out  on  the  heath  to  meet  the 
horses.  I  told  him  that  I  thought  it  would  be  better 
if  I  walked  the  horse  out  myself  so  as  to  warm  him  up 
myself. 

He  took  a  good  look  at  me  and  answered  :  "  You 
aren't  used  to  Newmarket.     There  will  be  a  lot  of  other 

46 


GALLOPING  ST  CLOUD  II. 

horses  about.  The  horse's  usual  lad  had  better  be  on 
him  until  the  time  came  for  the  gallop." 

I  could  see  that  he  didn't  think  much  of  me  so  I  said 
quietly  :  "  If  that's  so  then  the  boy  had  better  ride  him 
in  the  gallop  too." 

He  seemed  a  little  annoyed  but  finished  up  the  talk 
by  saying  :  "  Just  as  you  like.  You  had  better  be  at 
the  stable  at  seven  in  the  morning." 

He  was  a  great  big  devil,  St  Cloud  IL,  standing  about 
seventeen  and  a  half  hands,  but  he  walked  out  all 
right  to  the  gallops.  The  boys  were  sniggering  and 
when  we  did  a  light  canter  they  tried  to  guy  me.  The 
horse  went  sweetly  with  me.  Then  the  boys  started 
whispering.  I  heard  one  of  them  say  :  "  Wait  till  he 
comes  the  other  way."  Presently  they  put  Quibble 
to  lead  me  a  gallop,  and  St  Cloud  II.  he  seemed  to  like 
me  even  better,  for  he  stretched  along  and  I  found  out 
he  was  no  end  of  a  nice  horse.  That  was  all  which 
was  done. 

I  hung  about  Newmarket  making  the  acquaintance 
of  a  few  people  at  the  Rutland,  and  got  up  on  St  Cloud 
once  or  twice  again.  It  was  all  very  dull  and  no  one 
seemed  to  want  to  make  friends  with  me. 

The  following  week  was  the  First  October  Meeting 
and  not  a  ride  came  my  way.  I  went  down  to  the  post 
on  a  pony  I  had  got  hold  of  and  I  watched  the  starts 
and  felt  as  if  I  could  beat  the  best  of  them.  At  last  I 
had  a  mount  or  two  on  bad  horses  without  any  chance 
at  all.  I  shall  never  forget  the  way  all  those  in  the 
ring  and  on  the  stands  behaved  to  me  the  first  time  I 
cantered  out.  It  was  my  first  appearance.  They 
had  seen  no  one  riding  with  what  they  called  the 
"  Monkey-on -the-stick  "  seat  and  a  big  laugh  went 
up.  It  must  have  been  mighty  funny  to  them.  I 
know  I  didn't  appreciate  it  myself.     However  I  stuck 

47 


TOD  SLOAN 

to  my  colours,  although  as  I  didn't  win  I  began  to 
think  that  I  might  after  all  be  wrong,  and  I  even 
commenced  to  ask  myself  whether  the  English  sport- 
ing writers  weren't  about  right  when  they  said  that  I 
couldn't  ride  at  all.  Lord  William  Beresford  spoke 
to  me  kindly,  however,  and  said  I  could  ride,  and  he 
let  me  know  he  believed  in  me.  I  dare  say  he  realised 
how  much  his  words  bucked  me  up  and  made  me  deter- 
mined to  show  them  a  thing  or  two.  The  first  race  I 
won  was  on  the  horse  named  Quibble.  It  was  the  first 
time  they  ever  tried  the  starting  machine  and  one  of 
the  people  who  were  exploiting  it  got  it  into  his  head 
that  I  was  against  it  and  had  been  doing  all  I  could 
to  queer  it.  So  I  thought  I  would  show  him  !  Now 
I  had  had  experience  with  the  new  invention  in 
America  and  as  I  say  it  was  only  an  experiment  on 
the  part  of  the  Stewards.  The  other  riders  were 
strange  to  it  and  while  they  were  getting  ready  after 
the  barrier  flew  up  I  was  'way  off  and  nearly  quarter 
finished  before  they  started.  I  am  afraid  my  win  in 
that  race  came  very  nearly  finishing  the  chance  of 
the  starting  machine  in  England.  I  know  that  it  was 
not  taken  up  until  two  years  after. 

Meanwhile  I  had  been  riding  St  Cloud  in  preparation 
for  the  Cesare witch.  A  few  days  before  the  race  came 
his  winding-up  gallop  ;  it  was  out  on  the  Limekilns. 
Wliat  with  walking  to  the  course,  and  trotting  round, 
we  covered  quite  a  lot  of  ground  before  being  told  to 
canter  for  a  distance  which  must  have  been  over  four 
miles.  By  the  way,  these  canters  in  England  I  found 
out  to  be  in  many  cases  really  half-speed  gallops  ! 
The  horse  went  well,  and  I  thought  on  pulling  up  that 
his  work  was  surely  finished  for  the  morning,  when 
after  about  ten  minutes  Pincus  said,  "  Now  we're 
going  to  gallop  him."     "  Going  to   gallop  him,   Mr 

48 


Lord  Marcts  Beresford  ami  Mr.  Richard  Marsh 


WHERE  COMFREY  FINISHED 

Pincus  ?     Why,   look  what  he's   done  already  !  "     I 
felt  like  getting  off,  but  thank  goodness  I  didn't,  for 
if  I  had  they  would  have  put  one  of  the  lads  up  and  the 
horse  would  have  been  ruined.     As  it  was  I  spared 
him,  although  there  was  a  horse  to  take  him  along  and 
another  one  to  join  in  when  half  the  distance  had  been 
covered.     With  one  thing  and  another  he  must  have 
covered   15  miles    that  morning  and  in  my  opinion 
his   chance  for  the  Cesarewitch  four  days  later  was 
ruined.     I  know  that  in  that  race  he  was  the  tiredest 
horse  you  ever  saw.     It  was  a  pity  !     Luckily  for  the 
horse  he  was  eased  up  after  the  Cesarewitch  until  the 
Cambridgeshire,  a  race  I  shall  always  think  that  I  won. 
In  this  second  race  my  theory  was  that  I  was  winning 
all  the  time  and  that  I  led  all  the  way.     The  big  fellow 
travelled  with  me  as  if  he  knew  exactly  what  he  had 
to  do.     I  saw  one  after  the  other  drop  out,  and  from 
the  Bushes  home  there  were  only  three  of  us  :  I  had 
to  watch  Sandia,  who  I  always  kept  almost  clear  of ; 
Sir  William  Ingram's  horse  Comfrey  was  on  the  other 
side  of  the  course.     I  was  confident  that  I  had  the 
race  in  my  pocket,  but  I  kept  the  big  horse  going 
nicely  all  the  same,  and  the  charge  against  me  of  over- 
confidence  was  not  merited.     As  a  matter  of  fact  I 
shall  always  believe— in  fact  I  know—that  Comfrey, 
who  was  given  the  race,  was  only  third,  Sandia  being 
second,  three  quarters  of  a  length  from  me.     There 
was  no  one  more  surprised  than  I  was  myself,  and  in 
my  trouble  I  may  have  said  that  the  race  had  been 
"  stolen  from  me."     But  I  made  no  charge  whatever 
against  Mr  Robinson,  the  judge,  a  gentleman  I  have 
always  had  respect  for.     What  I  did  say  in  my  dis- 
appointment was  certainly  twisted  round.     The  next 
day  Mr  Robinson  with  a  newspaper  man  came  to  the 
jockeys'  room  and  asked  me  exactly  what  I  did  say 
D  49 


TOD  SLOAN 

about  him.  I  told  him  frankly  that  I  thought  I  had 
won  but  I  never  uttered  one  word  against  his  honest 
conviction  that  he  had  seen  the  race  in  the  way  he  had 
placed  them.  My  opinion,  as  I  told  him,  was  that  the 
width  of  the  course  and  the  fact  that  the  judge's  box 
was  set  so  low  between  them  made  it  almost  im- 
possible to  judge  a  finish  correctly.  He  listened  very 
pleasantly  to  me  and  said  he  was  quite  certain  that  I 
had  not  been  outspoken  about  him  personally.  Of 
course  it's  a  long  time  ago  and  makes  very  little  differ- 
ence now,  but  that  race  has  always  stuck  in  my 
gizzard  and  I  shall  always  wish  that  someone  had 
taken  a  photograph  of  the  finish. 

I  was  very  upset,  but  Lord  William  Beresford 
came  up  to  me  afterwards  and  said,  "  Don't  worry 
yourself ;  we  think  you  won,  and  perhaps  you  shall 
ride  for  me  on  Friday."  I  should  explain  that 
Cuthbert,  who  was  book-keeper  or  secretary  to  Lord 
William's  stable,  had  already  told  me  that  there  might 
be  a  mount  for  me  on  Met  a  on  Friday  for  Wood  didn't 
want  to  ride  her,  as  he  had  had  the  offer  of  the  mount 
on  a  semi-certainty  in  the  same  race.  But  it  was  clear 
that  he  did  want  to  ride  Sandia,  in  the  same  stable, 
on  the  same  afternoon.  I  dare  say  Cuthbert  thought 
that  when  I  found  I  couldn't  ride  Sandia  in  the  bigger 
race  I  would  refuse  the  mount  on  Meta.  I  had  more 
sense.  "  I'll  ride  her  all  right,"  I  said.  I  did,  and 
I  beat  Wood  a  head  on  his  hot  favourite  ! 

Lord  William  was  so  pleased  with  me  that  Friday 
afternoon  that  he  announced  :  "  You  shall  ride 
Sandia  too.  Let  Wood  hunt  up  another  mount." 
And  I  won  the  Old  Cambridgeshire  on  him.  Those 
were  the  days  when  that  race  used  to  finish  at  the  top 
of  the  town. 

Mr  Martin,  above  whose  bar  I  used,  as  I  have  said, 

50 


A  POSTPONED  SHOOT 

to  live  with  Mr  Pincus,  had  been  kind  to  me,  and  he 
had  niade  up  a  shooting-party  for  the  foUowing  day, 
Saturday.  I  was  very  anxious  to  have  a  go  for  the 
first  time  in  my  hfe  at  the  pheasants.  Well,  just  after 
bandia  had  won,  Lord  William  came  to  me  and  said, 
I  want  you  to  ride  two  for  me  at  Hurst  Park  to- 
morrow." 

"  Impossible,"  I  repHed  in  my  "  fresh  "  way.  "  I'm 
gomg  to  a  shooting-party." 

"  Never  mind  your  shooting  !  " 

"  I  can't  put  it  off.  Mr  Martin  has  got  it  up  speci- 
ally m  my  honour,"  I  said— and  I  meant  it. 

Lord  Wilham  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  said 
quietly,  Now,  little  man,  you  have  to  come  to  Hurst 
Park  ;    Fll  see  Martin." 

I  was  going  to  stick  to  my  guns,  but  Lord  William 
had  a  sort  of  way  with  him,  and  in  the  end  I  went  to 
Hurst  Park,  and  I  think  I  actually  won  both  races. 
One  race  I  won  readily  enough,  and  the  other  they 
didn  t  give  to  me,  saying  that  I  had  lost  a  short  head  ! 
Mistakes  will  happen. 

Now  that  was  a  pretty  good  week's  work.  Mv 
reputation  in  England  had  begun.  For  my  own 
pleasure  I  may  as  well  add  that  although  Lord  William 
often  chaffed  me  about  that  party  with  Martin  which 
didn  t  come  off,  yet  he  made  it  up  to  me  by  letting  me 
shoot   with   him   and   his   own   party  at   Deepdene, 


51 


CHAPTER  VII 

TALKS   WITH   LORD    WILLIAM   BERESFORD 

Character  and  Disposition  of  Horses — A  Take-down  at  Leicester — 
Buying  a  Trotter — Myself  against  the  Horse-swopper — Diddled — 
Warwick  in  a  Fog 

The  more  I  saw  of  Lord  William  Beresford  the  kinder 
he  seemed  to  become  to  me,  and  the  more  interested 
he  became  in  what  I  was  doing.  He  was  always 
anxious  to  know  what  rides  I  was  getting,  and  to  in- 
fluence others  to  put  me  up.  In  1897  he  was  staying 
at  the  Adelphi  Hotel  at  Liverpool  for  the  Autumn 
Meeting,  and  several  times  he  asked  me  round  to  his 
apartment,  where  he  would  sit  "  talking  horse  "  to 
me  for  hours  together.  Sometimes  others  would  come 
in  but  I  think  he  liked  better  to  chat  alone.  Especi- 
ally he  was  interested  in  the  instinct  of  horses — not 
any  particular  English  horses  that  I  was  just  then 
riding,  but  those  whose  characters  or  dispositions  I 
had  really  studied.  Some  of  the  things  about  which 
he  drew  me  out  may  be  put  down  here,  for  as  the  topic 
interested  him  so  it  must  others. 

I  have  always  had  rather  a  reputation  for  doing 
more  with  horses  who  are  bad  tempered  and  sulky 
than  other  jockeys,  but  I  don't  take  much  credit  for 
this.  I  told  Lord  William  that  it  was  simply  because 
I  knew  that  horses  don't  like  to  be  bullied,  and  I  also 
told  him  that  I  had  managed  to  find  out  the  peculi- 
arities of  one  or  two  of  his  own  horses,  and  that  I 
would  play  up  to  them  accordingly.  For  instance  I 
remember  a  colt  named  Lake  Shore  on  whom  I  won 

52 


KIDDING  A  PULLER 

four  races  straight  off  the  reel.     He  was  considered  an 
awful  sulker  and  sluggard.     As  a  matter  of  simple  fact 
he  was  nothing  of  the  kind.     He  got  his  bad  reputation 
because  the  boys  made  the  mistake  of  trying  to  keep 
him  up  to  his  work  by  riding  him  too  hard.     I  found 
out  that  it  was  necessary  to  fool  him.     He  would  not 
be  bullied.     He  became  angry  directly  anyone  on  his 
back  started— as  they  generally  did— by  kicking  and 
pulling  at  him  and  whipping  him  too.     My  way  with 
him  was,  just  at  the  start,  to  behave  as  if  I  were  trying 
to  control  him.     I  would  tug  at  his  bridle  a  bit  and 
then  I  would  relax.     That  made  him  think  I  had  given 
it  up— the  struggle  I  mean— and  he  would  strike  out 
for  all  he  was  worth  under  the  impression  that  he'd 
conquered  me.     He  nearly  always  won  when  ridden 
that  way  because  he  did  his  hest— on  his  own  account. 
One  day  at  Liverpool  there  was  a  bad  mix-up  and 
two  horses  came  down.     Now  from  what  I  have  seen 
I  am  quite  sure  that  nine  times  out  of  ten  when  a 
horse  falls  it  is  the  fault  of  the  rider.     When  a  jockey 
gets  in  a  scramble  or  a  tight  place  he  is  apt  to  pull  his 
horse's  head  about  from  sheer  fright  until  the  animal 
loses  control  of  his  action.     Then  if  he  strikes  into 
another  horse  down  he  goes.     But  if  he  is  allowed  to 
fight  out  his  own  battles  he  is  most  apt  to  win  out. 
Talking  about  falls  too,  and  a  horse's  instinct,  only  in  few 
cases  have  I  known  a  thoroughbred  step  on  a  jockey 
who  had  fallen  in  a  race.     If  a  boy  will  lie  quite  still 
when  he  is  thrown  the  chances  are  that  he  will  escape 
without  a  scratch  from  a  horse's  hoofs.     I  found  this 
out  once  when  riding  in  a  field  of  seventeen  at  Nash- 
ville.    I  fell  and  nearly  all  the  horses  actually  went 
over  me  and  not  one  of  them  ever  touched  me. 

Wliile  I  am  writing  of  my  attempts  to  get  horses  to 
take  to  me  I  may  as  well  tell  of  the  only  one  that 

53 


TOD  SLOAN 

wouldn't.  He  was  an  animal  named  Little  Silver 
and  I  knew  him  first  in  California.  Somehow  I 
couldn't  stand  the  sight  of  him.  I  never  knew  why 
it  was,  but  sometimes  I  thought  it  was  because  I  was 
afraid  of  him.  I  hated  it  every  time  I  had  to  ride  him. 
I  only  won  on  him  once  for  he  wouldn't  try  with  me. 
But  a  kid  named  Eddie  Jones,  an  exercise  boy,  could 
take  him  out  and  win  on  him.  He  knew  Jones  and 
they  liked  each  other  just  as  two  men  do.  It  must 
have  been  a  case  much  like  that  of  Diamond  Jubilee 
and  Herbert  Jones  in  England.  Of  one  thing  I  am 
quite  sure  :  you  can  get  a  real  friendship  with  a  horse, 
and  some  horses  as  we  all  know  develop  real  affection 
for  men  or  boys  or  goats  or  dogs,  and  even  cats,  and 
they  are  jealous  and  nervous  when  the  objects  of  their 
affection  are  away.  I  remember  discussing  all  these 
points  and  instances  with  Lord  William  at  Liverpool 
that  time.  I  shall  have  some  more  to  say  about  the 
question  later  on. 

Lord  William  would  often  laugh  at  some  of  the 
experiences  I  had  that  autumn  (1897)  when  I  was 
riding  and  when  he  didn't  happen  to  be  there  to  help 
me  with  his  knowledge  and  advice.  For  instance,  I 
was  induced  to  go  down  to  Leicester  by  an  owner- 
trainer  who  had  a  horse  called Well,  never  mind. 

He  was  very  serious  about  it.  I  just  had  to  go. 
Well  when  I  got  to  the  course  I  found  that  he  told 
some  of  my  friends  that  they  could  bet  on  his  horse. 
This  made  me  so  mad,  then  and  afterwards,  because 
if  I  had  chosen  I  could  have  ridden  the  winner,  who, 
by  the  way,  started  favourite.  The  small  man  kept 
me  to  my  promise,  and  I  know  he  had  a  bet  himself 
and  that  he  succeeded  in  influencing  my  friends. 
Judging  from  the  manner  we  went  down  to  the  post 
I  wouldn't  have  taken  a  pound  to  a  penny  on  my 

54 


MY  HORSE  AND  BUGGY 

mount's  chance.  Before  we'd  gone  the  first  two  hundred 
yards  I  was  half  that  distance  behind  the  others  and 
the  lot  had  passed  the  post  before  I  was  much  more 
than  half-way  home.  All  the  boys  laughed  at  me. 
Rickaby  and  Sam  Loates  were  the  worst  !  The 
owner  came  to  the  jockeys'  room  after  the  race,  but 
when  I  saw  him  I  couldn't  help  saying,  "  You  had 
better  get  away  from  me." 

I  wouldn't  even  look  at  him,  I  was  so  mad. 

"  I'll  sell  my  horse,  for  I've  got  another  one,  ten  lb. 
better  than  he  is,"  he  said  after  a  time. 

"  Then  sell  him,"  I  answered,  "  at  whatever  you 
can  get  for  him.  If  you  have  any  relations  in  the  meat 
for  animals  line  of  business  you'll  know  what  to  do." 

I  acknowledge  it  now  :  I  couldn't  stand  the  ridi- 
cule :  Fancy  Sloan  not  being  able  to  get  a  gallop  out 
of  a  horse  !  I  was  properly  taken  in — in  fact  it  was 
the  worst  take-down  of  my  life  with  one  exception, 
and  I  may  as  well  tell  that  story  here  too. 

I  was  living  at  Redbank  in  New  Jersey,  with 
Johnny  Campbell.  It  was  the  ambition  of  all  the  boys 
about  a  stable,  and  especially  those  who  had  a  little 
bit  of  money,  to  possess  a  trotter  and  a  buggy.  I  had 
a  bank  roll  of  about  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 
Well,  one  day  when  I  was  idling  about,  a  fellow  I  had 
never  seen  before  went  past  me  slowly  in  a  buggy. 
A  boy  who  had  come  to  our  boarding-house  two  days 
before — he  was  "  planted  "  there  I  fancy — said  that 
he  knew  him.  "  Here's  So-and-so,"  said  the  boy  ; 
"  he's  a  big  horse-dealer." 

The  guy  called  out  to  me,  "  Like  a  spin  ?  "  and 
having  nothing  to  do  that  afternoon  in  I  hopped. 
We  went  off  at  a  fine  lick  ;  that  horse  could  trot. 
After  a  while  I  said  to  my  new  friend  :  "  Look  how 
he's  sweating ;  my  !   it's  pouring  off  him." 

55 


TOD  SLOAN 


cc 


Well  it  ain't  to  be  wondered  at,"  he  replied,  the 
trotter  going  faster  all  the  while  ;  "  we've  been  to 
Long  Branch  and  back  this  afternoon,  and  that's 
going  some  !  " 

I  didn't  wonder  any  more,  for  it  was  a  big  journey 
in  the  time.  He  shook  the  horse  up  then  and  I  kept 
feeling  how  much  I  should  like  to  be  behind  him  again. 

After  another  minute  or  twd — for  I  was  thinking 
and  he  didn't  interrupt  me* — the  horse-dealer  said  to 
me  :  "  Yes,  he's  a  fine  horse  :  there's  a  feller  been  after 
him  and  I've  sold  him  for  four  hundred  dollars." 

"  How  old  is  he  ?  "  I  chipped  in. 

"  Well  he's  really  about  eight  or  nine,  but  I  said 
he's  seven,"  and  he  winked  and  shook  the  animal  up 
again.  "  I'm  going  to  deliver  him  to-morrow,"  he 
went  on,  "  with  the  buggy  and  harness  thrown  in  for 
the  four  hundred." 

That  was  too  much  for  me.  "  You're  going  to 
deliver  him  to-day,"  I  jerked  out  in  a  commanding 
sort  of  way  ;    "  you  are  going  to  sell  him  to  m^." 

"I  can't  do  that,"  he  explained  as  if  he  were 
apologising  already  to  the  other  man  ;  "  what  would 
he  think  of  me  ?  " 

"Never  mind  what  he  thinks  of  you,  the  horse's 
mine  I  tell  you  " — ^and  so  he  was.  I  paid  over  the 
stuff  that  night. 

Before  the  dealer  left  he  said,  "  There  is  only  one 
thing  I  want  off  that  harness :  it's  those  little  plates  with 
my  initials  on  the  blinkers,"  and  he  added,  "  I'll  be 
round  in  a  day  or  two  to  get  them  :  my  wife  would 
never  forgive  me  if  I  didn't  get  those  plates." 

I  had  asked  no  one's  advice  about  that  horse  and  the 
next  morning  I  started  to  take  my  pride  and  joy  out 
for  a  spin  on  my  own.  I  felt  proud  of  my  choice  and 
really  I  didn't  think  it  worth  while  to  consult  anyone 

56 


WARWICK  IN  A  FOG 

else  about  it.  Hadn't  I  been  in  a  livery  stable  and 
didn't  I  know  as  much  as  the  next  fellow  ?  Well  my 
brother  Cash  turned  up  just  as  I  was  going  to  put  the 
horse  in  the  buggy.  The  first  thing  he  did  was  to 
start  laughing.  My  horse  could  hardly  stand,  let 
alone  walk  !  He  was  eaten  up  with  rheumatism  !  Of 
course  the  dealer  had  warmed  him  up  the  day  before. 
He  had  never  let  him  stand  still  a  minute,  but  jogged 
him  one  way  and  the  other  when  I  got  in  and  out,  or 
whenever  we  ought  to  have  stopped. 

I  think  I  got  forty  dollars  for  the  harness  and  buggy, 
but  where  the  horse  went  to  I  forget.  He  was  never 
any  good.  I  never  saw  him  again.  His  age  was  not 
a  day  less  than  seventeen. 

Lord  William  used  to  say  that  I  never  seemed  to 
do  so  well  when  he  wasn't  with  me.  He  was  right. 
Another  time  was  when  I  was  induced,  much  against 
my  will,  to  go  to  Warwick.  At  first  I  had  refused 
but  some  of  those  around  me  who  would  bet  on  any- 
thing I  rode  argued  about  it  :  "  Tod,  we  hear  that 
one  or  two  of  those  mounts  you  are  offered  can  go  a 
bit ;  you  may  as  well  ride."  Still  I  stuck  out.  At 
last,  [however,  I  did  agree.  It  was  foggy  when  I 
arrived  near  the  place.  I  had  been  to  Stratford -on- 
Avon  that  morning,  wanting,  as  all  good  Americans 
do,  to  see  Shakespeare's  birthplace.  I  remember 
we  drove  over  from  Stratford  to  Warwick.  Getting 
near  the  race  track  the  mist  got  thicker  and  thicker  ; 
I  had  never  seen  the  course  before  and  it  was  a  case  of 
groping  one's  way  to  the  starting-post.  I  thought  to 
myself  that  I'd  stick  behind  some  other  fellow  in  the 
race  and  depend  on  his  knowing  the  way.  The  starter 
told  us  all  to  get  as  near  to  him  as  possible  so  he  could 
see  us.  We  hunched  in  together  and  at  last  he  got  us 
off.     I  stuck  to  the  jockey  guide,  a  small  boy,  that  I 

^7 


TOD  SLOAN 

had  selected  for  the  purpose,  but  he  didn't  know  the 
course  either  !  We  struck  a  patch  of  fog  so  thick  that 
you  could  hardly  see  your  hand  before  you.  At  last 
the  two  of  us  landed  in  the  middle  of  a  field  somewhere 
and  had  to  walk  back  to  the  paddock  about  twenty 
minutes  after  the  others. 

I  was  just  inside  the  jockeys'  room  when  the  trainer, 
a  man  with  a  very  small  stable,  rushed  in  saying, 
"  Hurry  up  or  you'll  be  too  late  to  weigh  out ;  you 
know  you're  to  ride  mine." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  ride  again  ;  it  isn't  riding  at  all 
out  there,"  I  answered. 

He  began  bullying  me  and  threatened  to  bring  me 
before  the  Stewards.  Indeed  he  rushed  out  to  do  so, 
but  in  less  than  a  minute  came  the  notice  that  the 
rest  of  the  programme  had  been  postponed  or 
abandoned  ! 


58 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SECOND   IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND 

Of&cials'  Kindness — Liverpool  Jumping  Course — Never  a  Drink  while 
racing — Laid  out  at  Kempton — My  Opinion  of  Democrat,  and — 
Lord  William's 

I  HAVE  often  been  asked  for  some  of  my  other  impres- 
sions on  my  first  start  in  England  in  1897.  I  certainly 
noticed  the  jockeys  were  very  nicely  treated,  and  one 
thing  I  had  never  seen  in  America  were  the  luncheon 
tickets  which  were  given  to  us.  The  officials  were 
pleasant  too.  Mr  Joseph  Davis  of  Hurst  Park,  Mr 
Manning,  the  Clerk  of  the  Scales,  and  Mr  Arthur 
Coventry  and  several  others  were  particularly  kind 
to  me.  There  was  a  time  in  America  when  they  tried 
to  treat  jockeys  like  a  lot  of  monkeys.  I  remember 
one  man  over  there  who  was  promoted  from  one  job 
to  another  until  he  became  a  sort  of  superintendent  of 
the  paddock — Paddock  Judge  they  called  him.  This 
man  was  always  suggesting  to  the  Stewards  something 
new  which  would  in  his  opinion  prevent  this,  that 
and  the  other  "abuse  "  and  keep  the  Turf  with  regard 
to  jockeys  "  clean."  One  day,  as  the  result  of  his 
suggestions,  an  order  came  that  all  the  boys  had  to  be 
in  the  jockeys'  room  at  one  o'clock  and  that  they  were 
not  to  leave  it  until  it  was  time  to  go  to  the  post,  and 
that  they  had  to  come  right  back  after  the  race  until 
it  was  their  turn  to  ride  again.  In  fact  they  were 
to  be  caged  up  like  a  lot  of  monkeys.  I  wouldn't 
stand  for  it.     I  said  I  wouldn't  ride  if  I  had  to.     The 

59 


TOD  SLOAN 

idea  of  such  a  fool  thing  preventing  any  fraud  if  fraud 
was  intended  ! 

That  reminds  me  of  a  certain  trainer  who  in  the 
autumn  of  1897  saw  me  walking  about  the  paddock 
at  Lingfield  instead  of  being  in  the  jockeys'  room. 
He  came  up  and  said,  "  Aren't  you  going  to  ride  ?  I 
want  you  to  get  up  on  one  of  mine." 

Now  I  knew  he  was  a  fellow  who  had  written  a  news- 
paper article  a  few  days  before  in  which  he  had  said 
that  I  should  be  penalised,  that  I  ought  in  fact  to 
put  up  extra  weight,  because  my  "  seat  on  a  horse 
was  unfair."  But  he  didn't  know  that  I  knew  about 
it. 

"  Am  I  to  carry  a  penalty,"  I  asked  him,  "  for 
riding  as  I  do  ?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  he  replied,  affecting  to  laugh, 
but  looking  rather  foolish. 

"  But  didn't  you  write  an  article  saying  that  my 
seat  was  unfair  ?  " 

He  answered  that  that  was  all  newspaper  stuff. 

"  Did  they  pay  you  for  the  article  ?  " 

"  No,  they  do  all  my  business  for  me." 

"  Then  get  them  to  ride  your  horse  for  you  too." 

I  told  Jack  Watts  the  story.  I  remember  that  he 
never  stopped  laughing  about  it.  By  the  way  I  shall 
always  think  that  Watts  was  the  best  English  rider 
of  the  old  school  I  ever  saw.  I  liked  him  very  much, 
really  liked  him.  I  don't  say  it  because  he  was 
hospitable  to  me. 

They  used  to  think  when  I  first  arrived  in  England 
that  I  was  fogged  with  the  English  money,  but  I  had 
got  used  to  it  coming  over  in  the  Majestic.  Before 
that  I  had  only  seen  it^ — bank-notes  I  mean^: — once.  It 
was  when  Charlie  Mitchell  was  in  America.  I  had  just 
met  him  and  I  was  going  out  in  a  carriage  to  the  old 

60 


CHARLIE  MITCHELL'S  BANK-NOTES 

Guttenburg  track.  I  picked  up  Charlie  Mitchell  and 
took  him  with  me.  He  asked  me  what  they  charged 
to  go  in  and  pulled  out  a  bunch  of  English  notes. 
They  still  look  to  me  like  writing-paper.  I  hadn't 
any  money  with  me,  I  remember.  Mitchell  gave  an 
English  fiver  to  the  gate-keeper  but  that  worthy 
wouldn't  take  it  :  he  had  never  seen  one  before.  We 
asked  several  people  if  they  could  change  one  of  the 
notes  but  without  success.  It  looked  as  if  Mitchell 
would  be  shut  out  till  after  the  first  race.  After  a 
time  I  left  him.  I  went  inside  and  found  a  book- 
maker named  Ike  Thompson  to  change  a  bundle  of 
notes  into  American  money  for  Charlie.  As  a  sequel 
I  think  he  had  a  tenner  on  the  only  winner  I  rode  that 
day  and  came  out  well  to  the  good,  for  mine,  a  horse 
named  Osric,  was  an  outsider.     Mitchell  was  delighted. 

A  novelty  to  me  in  England  was  the  sight  of  the 
steeplechase  jockeys  at  Liverpool.  I  saw  them  for 
the  first  time  at  the  Liverpool  Autumn  Meeting.  I  had 
never  seen  cross-country  riders  so  tall  and  big.  I 
didn't  know  any  of  them  but  I  didn't  let  that  pre- 
vent my  staring.  Not  one  of  them  offered  to  make 
friends  with  me.  Perhaps  they  looked  upon  me  as  a 
curiosity,  a  kind  of  monkey.  In  the  morning  I  had 
gone  out  on  the  course  and  had  a  look  at  the  fences. 
It  was  all  so  colossal  that  it  almost  took  my  breath 
away.  Of  course  the  jumps  were  greater  and  stiff er 
than  anything  I  had  ever  seen  in  America.  It  was 
in  the  Grand  Sefton  I  first  saw  them.  To  see  the 
horses  going  out  into  a  country  looking  as  if  they  were 
never  coming  home  again  is  the  greatest  sporting 
living  picture  imaginable.  I  didn't  have  a  chance  of 
seeing  the  Grand  National  till  1899.  That  of  course 
was  more  wonderful  still. 

Lord    William    would    sometimes    wonder   at    my 

6i 


TOD  SLOAN 

appetite  in  the  evening  at  Liverpool  and  Manchester. 
He  had  heard  of  my  good  work  with  the  knife  and  fork 
at  Simpson's.  There  I  could  eat  three  orders  of  beef 
with  vegetables  and  then  switch  off  on  to  the  saddle 
of  mutton.  In  hotels  like  the  Adelphi  in  Liverpool, 
the  Queens  in  Manchester  and  elsewhere,  I  could  eat  a 
tremendous  meal  and  couldn't  bear  to  go  out  to  dinner 
where  I  couldn't  be  sure  of  getting  what  I  wanted.  I 
liked  best  a  big  cut  from  a  joint  of  lamb  with  new 
potatoes  and  salad,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that 
dinner  was  my  one  meal  of  the  day.  One  must  confess 
that  the  luncheon-rooms  open  on  a  race-course  are 
generally  no  very  great  temptation.  I  can  say  too 
that  I  never  took  a  drink  when  I  was  riding  until 
racing  was  over  for  the  day.  This  self-imposed  rule 
was  never  broken  during  the  whole  of  my  career  in 
England  and  for  years  elsewhere,  not  even  under  what 
might  be  called  really  necessary  conditions. 

One  case  in  particular  that  I  recall  was  at  Kempton 
Park; — I  think  in  1898 — when  I  met  with  an  accident 
through  Mr  Sol  Joel's  Latheronwheel  rearing  up  and 
falling  back  on  me  in  the  paddock.  I  had  shouted 
out  to  the  boy  to  loose  his  head  but  he  wouldn't  or 
didn't  hear  me,  and  I  was  crushed  under  him.  The 
horse  tried  his  best  to  get  off  me  with  the  true  instinct 
of  the  thoroughbred  not  to  do  injury.  At  last  he 
got  clear.  If  I  had  not  known  how  to  respirate  I 
shouldn't  have  had  any  life  left  in  me.  As  it  was 
when  they  came  to  examine  me  they  found  that  my 
pelvis  was  injured.  The  race-qourse  surgeon  put  the 
joint  back  in  the  socket  and  as  I  laid  there  the 
doctor  said  that  I  had  "  better  have  a  little  neat 
brandy." 

"  I  will — after  racing,"  I  replied. 

Lord  William  who  was  standing  near — ^he  had  come 

62 


TRYING  TO  BEAT  FORFARSHIRE 

to    see    how    I    was  —  immediately    broke   in    with  : 
"  You've  done  with  racing  for  to-day." 

"  Then  who's  to  ride  Democrat  ?  "  I  asked. 

I  shall  put  Cannon  up,"  he  answered. 

No  I  am  going  to  ride  Democrat,"  I  replied.  I 
think  if  any  other  jockey  had  been  mentioned  I  should 
have  been  content  to  lay  there,  but  as  it  was  I  got  up 
soon  after  without  the  brandy.  The  next  race  was  for 
two-year-olds.  Forfarshire  was  in  the  field.  I  was 
only  beaten  a  head.  Lord  William  always  thought 
that  it  was  my  unfit  condition  after  the  injury  which 
cost  him  the  race,  but  I  can  confidently  say  that  it 
was  the  best  race  I  ever  rode  in  my  life.  What  is 
more  Forfarshire  had  28  lbs.  in  hand  that  day,  but 
he  was  messed  about  a  bit  in  the  race  by  a  horse 
ridden  by  Madden.  Sam  Loates,  who  rode  Forfar- 
shire, blamed  me  for  it  afterwards  and  there  looked 
like  being  a  fight,  but — leave  it  at  that.  Lord  William 
always  had  too  great  an  opinion  of  Democrat.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  he  was  a  very  ordinary  horse,  and  I  am 
sure  that  had  a  jockey  of  the  old-fashioned  school 
ridden  him  on  that  day  he  wouldn't  have  been  in  the 
first  six.  I  am  not  taking  too  great  credit  for  myself 
in  saying  this,  for  if  a  rider  like  Johnny  Reiff  or  Frank 
O'Neill  or  Milton  Henry  had  been  up  they  would  very 
likely  have  done  as  well  as  I  did.  Later  on,  by  the 
way,  Democrat  was  given  to  Lord  Kitchener  for  a 
charger.  The  next  race  that  day  was  a  two  mile  or 
a  two  mile  and  a  quarter  affair — I  forget  which — and 
the  doctor,  Lord  William,  and  others  were  all  furious  at 
my  attempting  to  ride.  But  I  had  my  way  and  I  won 
the  race,  all  the  time  suffering  such  tortures  as  I  never 
had  known  before.  Altogether  that  uay  I  won  three 
racesi — without  brandy  mind  you.  However,  I  was 
paid  out  for  my  foolhardiness  by  being  kept  in  bed 

63 


TOD  SLOAN 

for  eight  days,  and  I  wasn't  able  to  get  about  properly 
for  two  weeks.  I  really  think  that  what  prevented 
me  breaking  down  altogether  directly  after  the 
accident  and  taking  to  my  bed  as  soon  as  I  could  get 
there  was  Lord  William's  saying  that  Cannon — ^then 
my  great  rival  in  winning  mounts — was  to  be  put  up 
on  Democrat.  It  is  wonderful  how  much  pain  can  be 
stood  when  the  blood  is  up  ! 

Lord  William  was  very  sympathetic  during  my  ill- 
ness, but  it  made  me  feel  worse  when  he  came  to  see 
me  and  wouldn't  talk  about  Democrat.  I  would  say 
to  him,  "  Democrat  could  never  have  beaten  Forfar- 
shire, my  lord,"  and  I  would  almost  have  a  relapse, 
and  would  start  feeling  all  my  pains  over  again, 
when  he  answered  me,  "  We  won't  talk  of  that,  little 
man,  you  did  your  best."  It  made  me  feel  like  hell. 
Lord  William  would  never  discuss  the  race  afterwards. 
I  know  that  to  his  dying  day  he  was  convinced  that 
Democrat  was  the  best  horse  in  the  race  on  that  day 
at  Kempton. 


64 


CHAPTER  IX 

A    GLORIOUS    WIND-UP 

The  Babyin  the  "  Pram  "-Nearly  a  Tragedy-Dining  with  an  American 
Owner-I  have  a  "  Follow  "-The  Record  at  Manchester-Four 
Wmners  and  One  Second— Police  Protection— Dodging  Swollen 
Head— Those  who  claimed  me— How  Molly  Plumb  nearly  spanked 

I  RODE  various  winners  in  the  last  three  weeks  of  the 
season  of  1897  :  Amhurst  in  a  big  field  at  Lingfield, 
and    a    horse   named    Bambini    at    that    dangerous 
place,   Northampton.     I   heard   afterwards   that    the 
course  was  done  away  with,  and  quite  right  too,  for 
It  was   certainly  about    the   trappiest   track   I   ever 
struck.     I  shall  never  forget  that  race,  but  the  danger 
that  particular  day  didn't  come  from  the  galloping 
Itself.     Right  down  beyond  the  turn,  with  no  idea 
that  the  horses  were  so  near,  was  a  woman  trying  to 
get  a  baby  carriage  with  a  baby  in  it  over  the  low  rail 
—a  bit  of  gas-piping  or  something— to  the  other  side 
of  the  course  !     She  managed  to  get  the  front  wheels 
over,  or  half  the  "  pram,"  and  then  it  stuck.     As  we 
came  along  we  could  see  it.     To  whoever  was  on  the 
rails—and  I  was  there— it  meant  certain  destruction- 
destruction  to  the  baby  and  the  baby-carriage  or  to 
the  jockey  and  his  horse— or  both.     -^—  was  on  my 
whip  hand  and  he  was  keeping  me  pinned  on  the  rails. 
I  looked  at  him  but  he  wouldn't  catch  my  eye.     I 
shouted    but— nothing   doing.     There   was   only   one 
course  to  take  to  save  life  and  limb  and  I  took  it.     I 
barged  into  him  and  nearly  knocked  him  over.     But 

E  65 


TOD  SLOAN 

the  baby  was  saved  and  I  was  too.    And  what's  more 

I  just  beat  him.    Of  course was  mad,  and  he  was 

going  to  report  me  to  the  Stewards,  but  I  got  to  them 
first.  If  I  remember  rightly  he  was  fined  and  put 
do\\ai  for  the  rest  of  the  meeting.  The  Stewards  had 
seen  the  whole  incidents  of  the  race,  fortunately  for 


me. 


I  rode  winners  at  Liverpool  and  remember  a  rather 
funny  entertainment  after  that  meeting.     One  of  the 
o^vner^— an  American,  with  one  horse  only  I  heard 
afterwards— who  had  won  a  nice  little  bit  over  a  race 
he  had  won  kept  on  saying  to  me,  "  Now  don't  forget 
when  we  get  back  to  London  2jou  are  to  have  dmner 
with  me.     I  had  dinner  with  you  the  last  time."    As  a 
matter  of  fact  I  think  all  the  exchange  of  hospitality 
had   been  pretty  one-sided  up  to  then.     I  went  to 
dinner  and  we  sat  down  all  spick  and  span,  feelmg 
good,  and  my  host  took  up  the  card  to  order  the  meal. 
"  TOiat  do  you  want  ?     Like  some  fish  ?  " 
"  Just  what  you  like,"  I  replied. 
"  Do  you  want   any  meat  ?     Well  all   right,  per- 
haps we'll  have  some  soup.     Ah  !    petite  marmite— 
if  we  have  that  there's  meat  in  it ;  we  can  eat  that  and 
we  needn't  order  any  other  meat  afterwards.     Then 
we'll   have   some    Camembert    cheese.     Ever    tasted 
that  ?     No  ?     Oh  !    you'll  like  it." 

I  hadn't  put  in  a  word  and  he  seemed  quite  satis- 
fied with  himself.  We  had  the  soup  and  then  the 
fish— one  small  sole  between  the  two.  He  took  the 
lead  and  had  finished  his  Camembert  before  I  had 

looked  at  it. 

"  That's  all  right,"  he  said  as  he  lit  a  cigar. 

Paying  no  further  heed  to  him  I  asked  the  waiter 
for  the  menu  :  "  Now  I'll  have  something  to  eat. 
I've  dined  with  you,  now  I'll  have  something  on  my 

66 


GREAT  MANCHESTER  DAY 

own."  I  ordered  a  steak,  fried  potatoes  and  a  big 
salad.  He  tried  to  put  himself  right,  but  he  was  a 
cheap  fellow  at  anything  of  that  kind,  and  I  repeated 
his  words  :  "  That's  all  right.  I've  had  dinner  with 
you  :  now  I'm  just  getting  in  to  a  little  fancy  work." 

^Vhen  I'd  finished  he  made  no  move  to  pay  But 
as  a  last  little  tiy  he  said  :  "  How  do  you  expect  to 
ride  if  you  eat  all  that  ?  " 

"  How  am  I  going  to  ride  if  I  don't  eat  once  a  day  ?  " 
was  the  way  I  ended  the  conversation. 

There  was  no  particular  feature  about  the  three 
winners  I  rode  at  Derby,  but  after  Derby  came  the 
biggest   thing   I  had   done   in   England.     It   was   at 
Manchester.     On  Thursday  I  won  on  Bavelaw  Castle 
m  the  Rothschild  Plate.     On  Friday  I  got  Sapling 
home  m  a  very  big  field  for  the  Ellesmere  Welter  •   I 
had  been  on  him  at  Liverpool  and  had  won  on  him 
there  too.     ^^Oien  I  went  out  to  the  old  New  Barnes 
track  on  the  Saturday  it  was  raining  and  the  going 
heavy.     I  had  only  one  idea  in  my  head— to  get  away 
to  London  after  racing  was  over,  for  I  was  going  to 
Pans  and  to  Monte  Carlo.     I  would  have  gone  any- 
where to  get  out  of  such  weather  !     I  was  thankful 
that  It  was  the  last  day  of  the  season.     That  Saturday 
afternoon  crowd  rather  astonished  me,  and  some  of 
them  laughed  at  me  as  the  crowd  had  done  the  first 
time  I  was  seen  at  Newmarket.     Little  did   I  think 
what  was  waiting  me  later  on  that  afternoon  as  I 
cantered  do^vn  to  the  post  on  Captain  Machell's  Manx- 
man for  the  Farewell  Handicap.     There  was  a  field  of 
fourteen.     I  got  the  run  of  them  and  won  it.     I  heard 
afterwards  the  horse  had  been  well  backed.     In  the 
next  race  I  was  on  a  favourite,  Mr  Wm.  Clark's  Le 
Javelot,  and  I  was  expected  to  win.     They  gave  me 
a  bit  of  a  cheer  as  I  won  it.     I  wasn't  riding  in  the 

67 


TOD  SLOAN 

next  race.     Then  came  the    Saturday  Welter  with  a 
field   of  twenty-two.     Neither  the  weather  nor  the 
mud  could  shake  my  confidence  :    we  slopped  along 
and  at  the  distance  I  felt  I  had  them  all  whipped. 
The  mare  I  was  riding,  Martha  IV.  she  was  called, 
seemed  to  like  me  and  I  got  there.     That  black  mass  of 
people  set  up  a  roar  when  I  passed  the  post.     Lord 
William  was  delighted  and  I  had  to  dodge  the  people 
who  wanted  to  pat  me  on  the  back.     I  rode  Keenan 
in  the  November  Handicap  but  couldn't  beat  Asterie, 
who  was  better  class.    Then  followed  the  Final  Plate 
and  I  rode  Bavelaw  Castle,  whom  I  had  won  on  two 
days  before.     I  knew  exactly  what  to  do  and  made  the 
horse  to  put  in  his  best,  but  I  hadn't  seen  one  or  two 
who  were  thought  to  be  dangerous.     You  get  how- 
ever into  a  kind  of  feeling  that  you  must  win  when 
you  have  begun,  and  Bavelaw  Castle  had  to  do  it.     He 

did. 

Four  wins  and  a  second  !     I  didn't  get  a  swollen 
head  that  day  ;    that  I  can  say,  whatever  happened 
to  me  before  or  after.     My  only  idea  was  to  dress 
quickly  and  to  get  into  a  cab,  but  it  wasn't  so  easy. 
It  looked  a  bit  dangerous  in  fact,  for  they  were  wait- 
ing there  in  the  hundreds  and  thousands  either  to 
shake  my  hand  or  pat  me  on  the  back  or  to  grab  a 
souvenir,,     All  the  stories  I  had  read  as  a  kid  about 
those  who  used  to  wait  just  to  touch  John  L.  Sullivan 
came  back  to  ME  !    Ed.  Gaines  and  I  went  out  to  look 
for  the  cab,  but  it  was  impossible  to  get  at  it.     The 
crowd  was  closing  in.    Gaines's  face  was  as  white  as  a 
sheet  :  he  thought  we  should  be  trampled  on.     At  last 
they  got   a   dozen   policemen  who  formed   a  square 
round  us.     All  the  same  I  should  have  liked  to  shake 
hands  with  a  few  of  them.     I  should  have  risked 
having  all  the  breath  pressed  out  of  me  and  I  was 

68 


CLEARING  FROM  THE  CROWD 

such  a  little  fellow  that  I  might  have  been  dead  while 
they  were  looking  for  me  on  the  floor.  However, 
there  it  was  :  I  was  the  proudest  kid  in  England  or 
America  that  day.  Apart  altogether  from  what  I 
had  done  before,  I  had  just  made  good  in  England 
and  let  them  know  that  there  was  such  a  jockey  as 
Sloan. 

All  the  way  back  to  London  I  heard  that  crowd  call- 
ing to  me—"  Tod,"  "  Toddie,"  "  Sloanie,"  "  Sloan," 
and  everything  they  could  twist  my  name  into. 

In  that  short  month  I  had  forty-eight  mounts  and 
won  twenty-one  races.  Lord  William  sent  me  im- 
mediately a  splendid  gold  cigarette-case  with  the 
names  of  the  four  Manchester  winners  engraved  on 
it  and  the  second,  Keenan.  On  the  other  side  was  a 
reproduction  of  his  own  writing. 

I  was  tickled  to  death  at  the  idea  that  people  were 
beginning  to  know  me  and  to  talk  about  me  a  bit 
more.  Oh  yes  !  I  plead  guilty  !  Nothing  is  going 
to  be  kept  back.  I  intend  to  write  about  all  the 
times  I  got  a  bit  above  myself.  I  confess  that  it 
ended  in  that  serious  complaint,  "  Swollen  head." 
At  the  same  time  it  was  not  unnatural  at  my  age  to 
be  a  bit  fresh  when  I  had  actually  shown  those  who 
had  laughed  at  me  and  w^ho  didn't  believe  in  me  that 
I  could  do  something  they  couldn't. 

Now  with  regard  to  what  I  made.  I  had  paid  all 
my  expenses  and  had  at  the  end  of  the  season  about 
two  thousand  pounds  over  ;  of  course  this  was  through 
my  presents.  For  the  time  I  was  at  it  this  was  equal 
to  or  even  better  than  in  some  other  years  in  which  I 
rode.  In  this  connection  I  have  just  realised — and 
may  as  well  put  in  here — that  in  all  the  years  I  rode  I 
never  asked  for  nor  charged  any  fee  or  expenses  for 
riding  trials  or  gallops,  nor  did  I  charge  my  railway 

69 


TOD  SLOAN 

expenses  to  meetings.  This  will  be  borne  out  by 
owners  and  by  Messrs  Weatherby  and  others. 

While  when  I  first  came  to  England  there  was  no- 
body to  speak  to  me,  after  I  had  made  a  few  successes 
there  was  no  end  to  the  people  who  came  up  and  claimed 
me.  Often  it  was  impossible  to  remember  having  met 
them  before,  let  alone  having  talked  to  them  !  But  I 
would  go  through  the  handshake  and  the  ordinary 
greeting  :  "  Glad  to  see  you."  Some  of  them  would 
say,  "  Don't  you  remember  me  ?  I  was,"  etc.,  etc. 
Sometimes  they  were  just  as  funny  as  the  man  who 
rushed  up  to  Jim  Corbett  once  saying,  "  How  are 
you,  Mr  Corbett,  don't  you  know  me  ?  Surely  you 
remember  when  you  left  Jackson,  Mississippi,  all  the 
inhabitants  came  out  to  see  the  champion  pass  through. 
Well,  I  was  the  little  fellow  with  the  brown  Derby  hat 
standing  in  the  crowd." 

I  recall  one  man,  a  year  or  two  after,  who  came  up 
to  speak  to  me  at  Doncaster.  He  started  telling  me 
that  he  had  to  thank  me  for  giving  him  a  winner  at 
Goodwood.  He  had  had  a  tenner  on  and  wanted  to 
thank  me,  for  he  had  pouched  a  good  win.  Having 
nothing  to  do  at  the  moment  I  humoured  him  but  I 
told  him  that  I  had  never  met  him  at  Goodwood  to 
begin  with.  He  insisted  that  I  had,  and  offered  to 
bet  me  fifty  pounds  that  he  was  right. 

"  Show  me  the  fifty,"  I  said,  kidding  him. 

"  Well  I  haven't  got  it  on  me "  he  began. 

"  You  don't  look  as  if  you  had,"  said  I,  and  drew 
him  on  by  adding,  "  Would  you  like  to  bet  me  ten 
dollars  ?  Show  me  that  amount.  Eh  !  What  ?  I 
don't  think  you've  got  even  that."  The  truth  was 
that  he  had  tried  to  get  up  a  conversation  for  his  own 
ends,  perhaps  in  order  to  use  my  name,  but  I  knew 
by  the  way  he  had  started  that  I  had  never  spoken 

70 


LADY  FROM  KANSAS  CITY 

to  him.  Fancy  Willie — ^that's  met — saying  I  was 
going  to  win  a  race  to  anyone — especially  a  stranger 
on  a  race-course  !  "  Let  me  tell  you  something,"  I 
went  on  :  "I  have  never  been  to  Goodwood  in  my  life, 
and  the  only  place  I  think  I've  seen  you  in  before  was 
the  waxworks." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  I  never  rode  at  Goodwood  in  my 
life,  and  have  never  been  near  the  place. 

That  was  only  one  of  a  hundred  odd  incidents  of  the 
kind,  but  speaking  of  being  claimed  I  think  the 
funniest  of  the  lot  was  when  I  made  a  trip  to  Kansas 
City  a  few  years  after  I  gave  up  riding.  I  was  in 
the  paddock  when  someone  came  to  me  and  said, 
"  There's  a  lady  wants  to  speak  to  you  over  there  ; 
she's  sitting  on  the  stand  among  the  people  there  : 
she  says  it's  very  important." 

I  asked  who  she  was  and  whether  she  was  old  or 
young,  and  her  name,  but  the  man  didn't  know.  He 
had  received  the  message  from  someone  else.  So  I 
fell  for  it.  There  were  a  lot  of  people  sitting  near  a 
large  lady  who  would  have  had  to  diet  and  waste  to 
ride  twelve  st.  When  I  got  to  her  she  threw  her 
arms  round  me,  while  I  struggled  to  get  away.  Then 
she  pushed  me  away  from  her  to  get  a  look  good  at  me, 
holding  me  by  the  shoulders  with  her  strong  hands. 

"  Don't  you  remember  me  ?  I'm  Molly  Plumb.  I 
used  to  carry  you  in  my  arms  when  you  were  six  years 
old.     I  lived  next  door  to  you." 

Now  it  was  only  twenty-five  years  before  that  I 
was  six  years  old.  I  remembered  her  very  well  and 
added  that  I'd  see  her  again  when  I  came  back,  but 
that  I  was  very  busy  that  day.  That  didn't  please 
her  and  she  called  out  at  me,  "  Tod  Blauser  " — Blauser 
was  my  adopted  mother's  name — "  for  two  pins  I'd 
turn  you  over  on  my  knee  and  spank  you." 

71 


TOD  SLOAN 

What  a  shout  went  up  from  the  people  round  !  I 
laughed  with  them  but  she  didn't,  so  the  only  thing 
to  do  was  to  shake  her  hand  in  both  mine  and  to  say, 
"  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mrs  Plumb  " — she  may  have 
been  Miss — and  to  make  an  exit.  She  called  after 
me,  "  I'm  disappointed  with  you,  Blauser.  Mind  you 
come  back  and  see  me." 

It  was  lovely  to  see  her  but  she  didn't  realise  I  had 
my  business  to  attend  to  :  she  thought  she  was  on  a 
fair-ground,  I  think.  Mrs  or  Miss  Plumb  must  forgive 
me  if  she  sees  this  in  print.  One  is  liable  to  forget 
after  so  many  years.  But  I  could  never  forget  the 
name;  she  had  been  kind  to  me.  Yet  we'll  hope  to 
have  that  promised  supper  some  day,  with  nice  baking 
hot  biscuits. 


72 


CHAPTER  X 

HOLIDAY  INCIDENTS 

My  Aunts  visit  me — At  the  Races — "  When  do  you  perform  ? '' — At 
the  Grand  Hotel,  Paris — Cost  of  an  Illumination — Winning 
Si 2,000  at  Monte  Carlo — My  Present  of  Pointers 

The  incident  I  told  just  now  about  Molly  Plumb  and 
her  absolute  ignorance  of  the  race-course  reminds  me 
of  how  I  once  gave  an  invitation  to  my  aunts  Lib  and 
Min — two  sisters — to  come  and  spend  a  week  or  ten 
days  as  my  guests  in  New  York.  They  knew  of  my 
fame  at  the  time,  and  were  tickled  to  death  at  the 
idea  of  visiting  me.  Aunt  Lib  was  really  my  adopted 
mother,  but  I  called  each  of  them  aunt,  and  Aunt  Lib's 
husband,  Dan  Blauser — a  man  of  Dutch  extraction — 
Uncle  Dan.  I  believe  Aunt  Min  had  once  been  as 
far  as  Cincinnati,  but  the  other  had  never  journeyed 
more  than  sixty  miles  away  from  home.  They  were 
types  of  real  good  country  people  when  they  arrived 
at  the  old  Pennsylvania  station  on  the  New  Jersey 
shore.  I  had  taken  a  nice  suite  for  them  in  the 
Imperial  Hotel,  great  big  rooms  where  they  could 
roam  about  and  admire  everything — and  themselves 
too  if  they  wanted  to,  for  there  were  plenty  of  mirrors 
and  decorations. 

They  spent  their  time  running  about  New  York, 
and  I  did  the  best  I  could  to  entertain  them,  taking 
seats  for  theatres  and  vaudeville  shows  galore.  They 
were  peacefully  happy. 

Then  came  the  races  at  Sheepshead  Bay,  close  to 

1Z 


TOD  SLOAN 

the  sea.  Neither  of  them  had  ever  seen  the  ocean  or 
a  ship  and  how  they  did  stare  with  delight  !  I  had  a 
place  just  then  down  near  the  course,  at  Jerome  Cottage, 
and  I  gave  them  a  whole  floor  to  themselves. 

On  the  first  day  after  their  arrival  Sousa's  band  was 
playing  at  the  races  and  I  got  them  two  seats  just 
in  front  of  the  conductor.  They  were  in  raptures. 
After  settling  them  I  had  to  leave  them  alone  until 
after  the  fourth  race,  but  I  had  been  told  that  they 
were  getting  on  very  well.  I  had  ridden  three  winners 
in  succession,  and  I  put  my  overcoat  on  over  the  colours 
I  was  to  wear  in  the  last  race  of  the  day  and  went  off 
to  see  how  they  were  getting  on.  To  begin  with  I 
peeked  at  them  from  a  distance  and  saw  them  beating 
time  to  the  music  with  beaming  smiles  on  their  faces. 
I  didn't  interrupt  at  once,  but  when  the  tune  was  over 
I  went  up  and  asked  how  they  were  getting  on. 

"  When  do  you  perform  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Lib,  for 
all  the  world  as  if  she  were  on  a  fair-ground — like 
Molly  Plumb. 

"  I've  been  performing — only  three  winners — ^and 
I  shall  perform  again  in  the  last  race,"  I  answered, 
and  I  opened  my  coat  to  show  the  colours.  "  All 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  keep  your  eye  on  this  jacket. 
Didn't  you  see  my  performances  earlier  in  the  after- 
noon ?  " 

"  We  saw  some  horses  go  by,"  said  Aunt  Min ; 
"  were  you  that  little  feller  performing  in  front  ?  " 

"  That  was  me,  and  you  must  look  for  me  on  the 
track  in  the  race  after  the  next  one." 

They  promised  that  they  would,  but  I  am  sure  they 
were  much  more  impressed  with  my  importance  when 
on  leaving  them  I  went  up  to  shake  hands  with  Sousa 
and  several  of  his  leading  men.  They  looked  at  each 
other  as  if  to  say,  "  See  the  people  our  Tod  knows  !  " 

74 


FIRST  TRIP  TO  MONTE  CARLO 

I  left  them  to  their  contentment  until  after  the  last 
event,  in  which  I  finished  second. 

"  We  couldn't  see  that  jacket  of  yours,"  said  Aunt 
Lib  when  the  racing  was  finished,  "  you  weren't  per- 
forming in  front  that  time." 

"  No,"  I  answered  ;  "  it  was  a  friend  of  mine's  turn." 

Poor  dears,  that  one  day  gave  them  enough  of 
racing.  They  never  wanted  to  go  again.  I  often 
wished  that  I  could  get  an  exact  impression  of  what 
they  thought  about  it  all.  I  confess  that  it  took  a  little 
moral  courage  to  stand  the  smiles  of  all  the  people 
round  during  the  loud  talk  of  the  two  dear  women, 
especially  when  one  of  them  embraced  me  warmly — 
a  thing  she  was  quite  liable  to  do — bless  her  ! — several 
times  a  day.  No  one  was  rude,  however,  or  ridiculed 
us,  but  I  dare  say  many  will  understand  my  very  mixed 
feelings  when  they  asked  me  in  the  hearing  of  scores 
of  people  when  I  was  going  to  do — my  circus  turn  ! 
Anyhow  they  went  away  very  happy.  It  must  have 
been  funny  to  hear  them  telling  all  the  folks  at  home 
about  their  trip. 

I  think  they  would  have  come  to  Europe  if  I'd  asked 
them.  They  had  so  much  to  learn — and  so  had  I  for 
the  matter  of  that ! 

Perhaps  I  was  a  bit  green  when  towards  Christmas 
in  1897  I  left  London  for  Paris  and  Monte  Carlo.  Ed. 
Gaines  was  still  with  me,  and  I  had  another  man  too. 
On  arriving  at  Paris  we  went  to  the  Grand  Hotel — 
that  was  before  it  was  altered  of  course.  I  asked 
for  a  bedroom  with  a  bathroom  off,  but  was  told  that 
they  hadn't  got  one ;  then  after  a  bit  of  whispering  I 
found  that  they  only  had  one  private  bathroom  and 
that  was  in  a  swell  suite  costing  something  like  a 
hundred  and  fifty  francs  a  day.  I  took  it  and  the 
boys    accommodated    themselves    in    two    bedrooms 

75 


TOD  SLOAN 

which  belonged  to  the  "  apartment."  We  intended 
to  entertain  a  bit,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  we  didn't 
do  much  in  that  way,  for  no  one  knew  me  and  I  knew 
nobody.  With  the  exception  of  going  round  to 
Maxims,  which  didn't  interest  me  then,  and  the  Cafe 
American,  where  there  were  no  Americans  that  I  could 
see,  life  was  pretty  dull  for  those  few  days. 

I  got  tired  of  it  all  one  night  about  ten  o'clock  and 
we  all  went  back  to  the  hotel,  where  there  was  a  bright 
fire  burning  in  my  sitting-room.  Now  on  the  mantel- 
piece and  the  walls  there  were  large  candelabra  chock- 
full  of  candles  and  I  thought  to  myself,  "  If  I'm  paying 
all  this  money  for  these  rooms,  I  may  as  well  make 
the  place  as  bright  as  possible,  light  the  candles  and 
have  a  little  party  " — although  there  was  electric  light 
and  gas  too  if  I  remember  right.  So  out  I  took  a  box 
of  matches  and  lit  the  whole  lot — several  dozens  there 
were.  Gee  !  didn't  that  room  look  dandy  ?  I  began 
to  feel  warm  and  cosy  and  I  was  much  more  cheerful, 
until  when  I  got  the  bill  next  morning  just  before 
leaving  I  found  thirty-six  francs  charged  for  those 
candles  !  I  tried  to  fight  them  about  it  but — nothin' 
doing.  After  that  episode  I  felt  inclined  to  cover 
candles  over  with  a  cloth  when  I  saw  them  at  other 
hotels,  for  fear  the  temptation  should  be  too  strong 
for  me. 

At  Monte  Carlo  roulette  was  nothing  new  to  me. 
I  played  twice  a  day  for  the  six  days  I  was  there  and 
won  about  sixty  thousand  francs — about  two  thousand 
four  hundred  pounds.  I  never  had  a  losing  sitting, 
and  I  was  mighty  pleased  with  the  packet  I  took  away. 
On  the  way  back  I  stayed  in  Paris  again  for  a  few  days 
and  had  a  much  better  time,  for  I  got  to  know  a  few 
people  and  rubbed  along  more  comfortably  with  the 
French   customs.     Then  going    back    to    England    I 

76 


NEVER  A  SECRETARY 

sailed  on  the  15th  January  from  Liverpool  by  the 
Campania. 

Crowds  of  reporters  met  me  when  we  arrived  off 
the  Quarantine  Station  at  New  York.  I  tried  to  avoid 
them,  but  there  were  the  usual  interviews,  and  I  remem- 
ber that  the  reporters  I  didn't  say  a  word  to,  or  even 
see,  wrote  the  longest  stories.  A  good  deal  had  of 
course  appeared  in  print  in  New  York  during  the 
month  of  my  success  in  England. 

Mr  Charles  Fleischman  had  bought  a  hundred  copies 
of  the  Inter-Ocean  of  Chicago  whenever  anything  had 
appeared  about  me,  and  he  had  mailed  these  to  all  his 
friends  to  show  "  how  well  his  boy  had  been  doing." 
When  I  got  to  New  York  itself  the  reporters  didn't 
leave  me  alone  :  some  of  them  from  whom  I  scurried 
burnt  me  up  with  mock  interviews  full  of  jokes  at  my 
expense.  They  described  my  palatial  apartment  and 
made  out  that  my  room  was  littered  with  cigar  ends 
and  cigarette  stubs  and  that  the  carpets  and  furniture 
were  all  burnt  and  spoiled — the  room  of  me,  Tod  Sloan, 
who  cannot  help  being  neat  and  who  loves  tidy  rooms  ! 

They  also  talked  about  my  coloured  servant — a 
black  nigger  named  Dick  Keys.  He  was  my  valet 
in  town,  while  I  had  a  white  man,  Frank  Garrett,  for 
my  race- course  valet.  The  two  used  to  quarrel  like 
blazes.  Sometimes  I  thought  I  would  have  a  secretary 
to  manage  them,  but  I  never  reached  that  pinnacle 
of  success.  At  the  last  moment  I  would  think  that 
I  couldn't  afford  the  luxury.  Thinking  it  over  now 
I  fancy  that,  with  the  way  I  was  spending  money 
then  and  afterwards,  a  secretary  would  have  been 
jolly  useful,  for  I  was  very  careless  about  banking 
and  other  business.  Here  is  an  instance  :  I  went  in 
to  my  bank  one  day — it  was  years  later  than  the  time 
I  have  just  been  writing  about — in  fear  and  trembling 

77 


TOD  SLOAN 

to  try  and  arrange  an  overdraft.  I  was  afraid  that 
there  was  only  a  sum  of  three  or  four  hundred  dollars 
to  my  credit.  Wlien  I  had  worked  up  to  the  suggestion, 
the  manager  asked  :  "  How  much  do  you  want  ?  " 
"  Five  thousand  dollars,"  I  answered.  I  knew  I  was 
good  for  that  sum. 

"  Let's  see  how  you  stand  first,"  he  said,  and  in  a 
minute  showed  me  a  slip  of  paper  with  nine  thousand 
dollars  odd  written  on  it — to  my  credit,  mind  you. 

"  Wiat  do  you  want  to  draw  fourteen  thousand 
dollars  for  ?  "  he  demanded. 

I  was  taken  aback  and  told  him  I  only  wanted  to 
take  five  thousand,  but  that  I  had  made  a  mistake  in 
checking  my  pass-book.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  never 
went  through  the  items  in  my  life  ! 

Before  leaving  New  York  I  received  two  fine  dogs, 
pointers,  from  England.  One  was  given  me  by  Lord 
Charles  Beresford,  and  the  other  by  Lord  Marcus. 
They  were  brought  over  in  a  private  cabin  and  were 
looked  after  by  poor  Andrew  Latimer,  who  was  then 
Chief  Steward  of  the  New  England.  He  was  a  great 
friend  of  mine  and  of  many  of  those  who  may  read 
this.  It  will  be  remembered  that  after  several  changes 
of  boats  he  lost  his  life  in  the  Titanic  disaster.  Such 
a  real  good  friend  to  me  he  was,  open  hearted  and 
generous,  in  fact  an  all-round  good  fellow. 

I  took  out  to  California  the  two  dogs.  I  was  greatly 
pleased  with  the  present  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to 
know  that  there  is  hardly  a  good  pointer  in  California 
to-day  who  does  not  trace  back  in  his  pedigree  to 
Wisdom  or  Whisper,  the  names  of  the  two.  Breeders 
in  California  owe  a  deep  debt  of  gratitude  to  Lord 
Charles  and  Lord  Marcus. 

I  rode  for  a  while  in  the  very  early  spring  on  the 
Californian  track,  especially  at  Ingleside,  and  was  in 

78 


CASH  AS  A  BUILDER 

fine  form,  winning  about  40  per  cent,  of  my  mounts  and 
having  on  two  occasions  five  winners.  It  is  curious 
that  the  number  of  times  I  reached  this  score  in  a  day 
was  exactly  the  same  in  three  places ;  three  times  in 
England,  three  times  in  New  York  and  three  times  in 
California.  I  have  often  been  asked  how  many  times 
I  have  ridden  four  winners  in  an  afternoon,  but  I 
cannot  answer  this.  I  should  guess  the  figures  at 
something  like  fifty. 

I  spent  two  days  at  my  home  town  Kokomo  soon 
after  I  came  back.  There  was  a  ball  at  Logans-Port 
and  scores  of  Kokomo  people  wanted  to  go,  but  they 
didn't  know  how  to  get  there.  I  settled  the  question 
by  ordering  a  special  train  and  as  many  as  liked  to 
go  had  only  to  step  aboard.  I  put  them  up  at  the 
hotel  too  as  my  guests.  I  was  "  some  fellow,"  they 
thought — the  poor  boy  who  had  once  run  about  the 
town.  It  was  "  Blauser  this  "  and  "  Blauser  that  " 
until  they  found  there  was  no  special  to  go  back  by. 
I  told  them  I  hadn't  bought  the  train,  and  that  they 
had  only  to  wait  till  the  next  morning  for  ordinary 
cars.     They  didn't  like  it. 

I  also  went  to  Chicago,  where  I  had  many  friends, 
for  I  had  spent  a  long  time  there  with  my  sister  and 
Cash  when  I  was  quite  a  little  kiddie.  It  was  when 
living  in  Chicago  in  1888  that  Johnny  Campbell  came 
to  where  we  lived  one  night  to  take  me  out  with  him 
to  New  Jersey. 

Cash  was  making  the  living  for  the  family  in  that 
fall  of  1888 — ten  years  before  the  time  I  have  just 
been  speaking  of.  He  was  employed  in  building ; 
that  is  to  say,  he  hammered  laths  on  unfinished  walls. 
He'd  fill  his  mouth  with  tacks  and  I  was  certain  with 
the  faces  he  made  sometimes  that  he  would  swallow 
a  few.     I  used  to  go  with  him  very  often  and  hand  him 

79 


TOD  SLOAN 

the  laths,  and  we  would  eat  and  drink  what  sister  had 
put  up  for  us.     Sometimes  I'd  pull  Cash's  leg  : 

"  That  fellow  working  over  there  is  a  goer ;  he's 
put  up  two  laths  to  your  one." 

Then  Cash  would  set  his  teeth,  take  a  pull  at  his  belt, 
fill  his  mouth  with  a  fresh  lot  of  tacks,  slap  at  the  laths 
and  would  look  round  every  now  and  then  to  see  how 
his  rival  was  getting  on.  He'd  nod  to  me,  for  he 
couldn't  speak  on  account  of  the  tacks,  as  if  to  say, 
"  What  do  you  know  about  him  ?  I'm  beating  him ; 
in  fact  I'm  leaving  him  standing  still." 

The  other  fellows  would  see  the  joke  and  they  never 
hurried,  for  there  was  no  piece  work  about  the  job,  and 
it  made  no  difference  to  their  pay,  however  many 
laths  they  hammered  on  during  the  day.  But  Cash 
couldn't  think  of  that  :  he  was  always  ready  to  sweat 
and  always  out  to  beat  the  other  guys.  Cash,  in  fact, 
was  some  worker,  and  at  week-ends,  as  there  was  a 
great  rush  time  at  the  barber's,  he  got  a  job  for  several 
hours  on  Saturday  night  and  for  four  hours  on  Sunday, 
shaving.  He  got  five  dollars  for  that.  Of  course  little 
Tod  couldn't  be  out  of  it,  and  he  used  to  go  with  him 
and  lather  the  customers.  I  would  give  them  five 
minutes  of  it  sometimes  while  waiting  for  Cash  to  come 
along  with  the  razor.  I  had  to  stand  on  a  stool  to 
get  at  their  faces  with  the  brush,  and  I  used  to  put  in 
some  fine  fancy  work.  My,  it  was  funny  !  I  used  to 
laugh  then,  and  I  laugh  still  more  so  now  when  I  think 
of  it. 


80 


CHAPTER  XI 

SOMETHING   ABOUT   CLOTHES 

Wanting  a  Fit-out— Johnny  Campbell's  Order— He  gets  the  BiU— A 
Fancy  for  Shoes— On  the  Ocean  without  a  Stitch 

I  SPOKE  just  now  of  going  off  with  Johnny  Campbell 
from  Chicago  to  New  Jersey.  About  a  year  after  I  first 
went  to  him  we  were  at  Long  Branch  races,  and  I 
determined  that  I  must  get  some  clothes  :  I  wanted  a 
suit  badly.  I  figured  it  out  that  I  could  go  to  Powell, 
a  tailor  in  New  York,  and  give  him  so  much  down  and 
have  enough  for  my  expenses  and  a  bit  left  in  hand. 
I  knew  the  suit  would  cost  sixty  dollars  and  thought 
the  balance  could  be  paid  when  the  things  were  finished. 
I  hopped  into  the  train  and  in  the  parlour  car  the 
first  man  I  saw  was  Johnny  Campbell.  He  looked  me 
up  and  down  with  surprise  :  "  And  where  are  you  going, 
my  lad  ?  " 

"Going  to  New  York  to  get  some  clothes,"  I 
answered  as  bold  as  brass,  while  looking  for  a  seat. 

*'  You're  going  to  do  what  ?  "   he  asked  again. 

"  Get  some  clothes,"  I  repeated.  "  I'm  sick  of  going 
about  hke  this." 

The  train  had  moved  off  and  Johnny  seemed  amused. 
Presently  he  called  me  over  to  him,  and  said,  "That's 
all  right  and  I'll  help  you,"  and  he  wrote  on  the  back 
of  a  card  to  Powell : 


(( 


Make  Sloan  what  he  wants  and  send  the  bill  to  me, 

''J.  Campbell." 

F  8i 


TOD  SLOAN 

I  thanked  him  and  on  arrival  in  New  York  I  went 
straight  to  Powell's  place,  then  at  the  corner  of  12th 
Street  and  Broadway.  I  gave  the  tailor  the  card  and 
then  looked  at  the  materials,  chose  one  I  liked  and 
was  measured.  Now  I  only  weighed  4  st.  9  lbs., 
and  when  Powell  told  me  the  price — sixty  dollars — I 
said,  "  Surely  you're  not  going  to  charge  a  little  feller 
like  me  that  figure  !  Why,  I  sha'n't  take  half  the  stuff 
that  would  be  required  to  make  you  a  suit." 

Powell  started  to  explain  to  me  how  much  more 
difficult  it  was  to  fit  a  little  man  and  handed  out  all 
the  "  guff  "  about  the  amount  of  stuff  it  took  to  make 
some  of  his  fat  giants'  clothes.  He  had  to  average 
up,  and  so  on.  Besides,  he  added,  cutting  for  me 
took  [just  as  much  time  and  labour  as  for  anyone 
else  ! 

Now  comes  the  joke  : 

"  Summer's  coming  on  ;  surely  you  want  something 
lighter  for  the  other  suits  ?  "  the  tailor  suddenly 
asked. 

"  What  others  ?  " 

"  Well  Johnny  Campbell  says,  '  Make  Sloan  what 
he  wants  and  send  the  bill  to  me,'  so  you  had  better 
fit  yourself  out  properly  and  have  a  couple  more  suits 
and  an  overcoat  while  you  are  about  it." 

I  laughed  at  what  Johnny  would  think  and  say  when 
he  got  the  bill  but  the  temptation  was  too  strong ; 
I  let  myself  go.  I  can  tell  you  that  when  the  things 
came  home  I  didn't  half  fancy  myself  and  swelled  it 
about  to  the  envy  of  all  the  boys  at  home.  But  you 
should  have  heard  what  Campbell  said  to  me  when  he 
got  the  bill  for  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars  : 
he  didn't  half  let  me  have  it ;  but  he  paid  it  all  right 
and  afterwards  he  would  laugh  and  shake  his  fist  at 
me.     In  recent  years  Johnny  and  I  have  often  laughed 

82 


FANCIES  IN  BOOTS 

over  the  incident.  Anyone  who  reads  this  and  who 
knows  him  should  ask  him  to  tell  it  his  own  way ; 
perhaps  it  will  sound  better  than  the  way  I  tell  it! 
By  the  way,  from  that  time  on  clothes  were  always  a 
great  fancy  with  me,  and  boots  too.  In  fact  it  may  be 
said  that  these  were  my  real  extravagances,  but  when 
I  was  making  money  freely  there  was  always  a  pleasure 
in  looking  at  something  in  value  I  had  for  it.  Some 
of  my  earnings  in  1897  were  left  with  London  tailors, 
and  after  1898  I  nearly  always  had  my  clothes  and 
boots  built  for  me  in  England. 

In  the  newspaper  interviews,  when  they  wanted  to 
poke  fun  at  me,  the  reporters  would  say  that  I  never 
travelled  without  more  than  a  dozen  trunks  and  that 
they  were  all  full  of  clothes.     As  a  matter  of  fact  I 
never  took  more  than  three  ;   but  considering  the  size 
of  the  garments  I  wore  there  could  be  a  lot  of  clothes 
stowed    away    in    them!     Certainly    I    was    fanciful 
about  shoes  and  would  carry  a  dozen  or  eighteen  pairs 
on  a  journey  of  any  length.     I  had  a  joke  one  night 
when  there  was  a  supper-party  in  my  apartments  at 
the  Imperial  Hotel  in  Broadway,  New  York,  where  I 
lived  for  some  years.     A  parcel  had  just  come  home 
and  had  not  been  unpacked  :    brown  shoes,  evening 
pumps,   and   a   lot   of   other  shoes.     The   company, 
especially  the  girls,  were  anxious  to  see  what  was  inside 
the  big  cardboard  box  and  I  let  them  open  it  to  satisfy 
their  curiosity.    My  size  was  and  is  about  one  and 
a  half.     Of  course  the  girls  at  once  wanted  some  of 
these  new  shoes  as   something  out  of  the  ordinary, 
something  quite  different  to  anything  they  had  had' 
but  I  was  quite  safe  when  I  said  to  them  :    "  Any  of 
you  who  can  get  a  pair  on  her  feet,  is  quite  welcome 
to  take  them  home  with  her." 

They  all  had  a  try  but  by  no  sort  of  persuasion  or 

83 


TOD  SLOAN 

by  use  of  the  shoehorn  could  they  get  their  feet  into  a 
pair.  However  there  was  no  need  for  them  to  feel 
hurt  or  put  out,  for  I  have  only  met  two  women  in  my 
life  who  could  wear  my  shoes,  one — of  her  later — ^the 
other  a  friend  I  cannot  focus  at  the  moment. 

Speaking  of  clothes,  I  remember  that  when  I  crossed 
to  England  in  1898  I  had  to  travel  without  a  stitch  of 
belongings.  My  brother  Fremont,  who  by  the  way 
does  not  come  in  much  in  the  story  of  my  life,  and  will 
not,  for  he  died  in  the  autumn  of  1914,  had  the  knack 
of  doing  everything  wrong  in  any  little  commissions 
he  had  to  undertake  for  me  or  others.  I  was  due  to 
leave  by  the  Deutschland  from  the  Hoboken  Pier, 
and  Fremont  and  my  nigger  valet  must  go  and  put  all 
my  things  on  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm,  an  opposition 
German  boat  sailing  the  same  day,  but  an  hour  earlier. 
They  waited  on  and  on  for  me  to  appear,  and  then 
when  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm  had  sailed  it  occurred  to 
them  to  rush  down  to  the  Deutschland.  We  were 
almost  off  when  they  arrived  and  I  spotted  them. 
You  should  have  heard  what  I  said  when  I  learned 
what  had  been  done  !  They  tried  to  explain  that 
they  thought  I  might  possibly  have  been  somewhere 
in  one  of  the  state  rooms  on  the  other  boat,  and  that 
they  had  waited  on  on  the  chance.  In  the  middle  of 
my  rousting  them  the  Deutschland  got  under  weigh, 
and  they  had  to  slip  ashore  in  a  hurry.  Apart  from 
the  inconvenience  I  suffered  I  worried  all  the  way 
across  about  an  unlocked  suit-case  which  my  brother 
had  deposited  at  the  last  moment  with  the  other 
baggage  on  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm.  It  had  about  five 
thousand  pounds'  worth  of  tie  pins  in  a  leather  case 
inside  it.  But  I  never  lost  a  single  thing.  All  the 
baggage  was  delivered  to  me  at  Southampton.  It 
was  the  eventful  journey  when  the  two  ships  raced 

84 


AT  SEA  WITHOUT  CLOTHES 

each  other  across  the  Atlantic,  our  boat  getting  in 
first  by  hours.  It  wasn't  funny  though  to  be  all  the 
time  without  a  single  thing  except  what  I  stood  up  in. 
People  helped  a  little.  There  was  a  nice  girl  on  board 
who  lent  me  a  pair  of  shoes  and  a  pair  of  stockings  so 
that  I  could  have  a  change.  Willie  Sims,  the  coloured 
jockey,  who  was  on  the  ship,  let  me  have  a  few  collars, 
and  I  borrowed  a  tie,  a  new  one,  from  someone  else,  and 
I  shall  always  remember  that  I  have  never  returned 
it.  I  got  hold  of  a  shirt  from  someone  too,  a  flannel 
one,  and  managed  to  turn  out  fairly  respectably  for 
dinner,  but  I  felt  a  bit  out  of  it  all  the  same.  Of  course 
everyone  dressed  for  dinner  at  my  table  on  that 
voyage;  they  would. 

The  story  got  about  in  New  York  and  of  course 
there  were  some  funny  pictures  published.  One 
showed  me  beckoning  to  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm  to  come 
alongside  ;  and  great  piles  of  baggage  were  drawn  on 
deck  in  a  pile  as  high  as  the  funnels  of  the  big  ship. 
My  luggage  of  course  !  Just  about  this  time  too  there 
was  a  cartoon  appeared  in  one  of  the  dailies  showing 
"  Uncle  Sam  "  at  Sandy  Hook  pulling  me  one  way, 
and  "  John  Bull  "  on  Land's  End,  England,  hauling 
the  other. 

The  papers  were  on  the  whole  kind  to  me  in  those 
early  days,  but  as  I  have  said,  some  of  them  used  to 
roast  me  a  bit,  trying  to  tear  me  down  by  ridicule. 
For  instance,  Jean  De  Reszke  had  said  he  would  like 
to  see  me  and  one  day  I  called  on  him  at  the  Gilsey 
House.  The  next  morning  one  of  the  papers  made 
out  that  I  said  when  I  went  into  his  apartment, 
"Hullo,  Jean." 

Hullo,  Tod,"  they  made  him  reply. 

Viho  do  you  ride  for  ?  "   I  was  supposed  to  have 
continued. 

85 


TOD  SLOAN 

Jean  de  Reszke  answered — ^according  to  them  : 
"  I'm  not  a  jockey :  I'm  a  singer." 

My  answer  was  the  Hmit :  "  You'd  better  quit 
singing  if  you  want  to  make  any  money.  Being  a 
jockey  is  the  only  way  to  get  it.  .  .  ."  All  lies  of 
course. 


86 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    LATE    KING   EDWAED 

Preparations  for  Second  Visit  to  England — Getting  fit — The  Yacht 
and  the  Horse  Belmar — My  Brother  as  a  Fighter — Presented  to 
the  Prince — His  Personal  Magnetism — His  Wager  of  ;^2oo — Taking 
my  Tip  about  Encombe — "  \Vhy  didn't  you  take  your  hat  off  ?  -' — 
Promise  of  a  Ride  in  Royal  Colours 

I  OFTEN  talked  about  England  to  "  Pittsburg  Phil," 
but  he  never  showed  any  wish  to  go  over,  preferring 
to  stay  where  he  knew  pretty  well  all  that  there  was 
to  know.  All  the  same  he  liked  to  discuss  England 
and  English  ways  with  me,  and  without  any  wish  to 
flatter  me  he  used  to  say  that  he  had  always  considered 
that  I  was  about  the  only  rider  he  knew  of  at  that  time 
who  would  make  a  success  abroad.  Several  times  he 
thought  of  sending  a  man  over,  a  journalist  friend  of 
his,  to  back  my  mounts,  but  it  came  to  nothing. 

Phil  did  very  well  over  my  riding  that  season — 1898 
— in  the  East,  for  I  was  in  great  form,  riding  two,  three, 
and  four  winners  every  day.  I  kept  myself  so  fit  too. 
I  had  a  boat — we  called  it  a  yacht.  I  named  her 
Belmar,  after  a  horse  I  had  ridden  with  great  success 
belonging  to  Phil.  I  was  living  at  that  time  in  a 
cottage  down  at  Sheepshead  Bay.  William  Fleisch- 
man,  who  was  agent  for  the  stable,  was  nearly  always 
down  there  with  me,  and  Mr  Julius  Fleischman,  who 
owned  it,  would  often  come  and  see  us.  We  spent  a 
lot  of  our  time  in  fishing  on  the  Belmar.  And  I  used 
to  have  as  much  pleasure  in  sailing  the  boat  as  I  had 
in  riding  the  horse  it  was  called  after. 

87 


TOD  SLOAN 

I  won  five  or  six  handicaps  on  Belmar  off  the  reel. 
I  have  never  come  across  a  more  intelhgent  horse  : 
he  knew  the  winning  post  just  as  well  as  I  did,  and  I 
had  the  sense  to  trust  to  his  wisdom  more  than  once. 
I  learnt  to  give  the  credit  for  my  wins  on  him  to  him. 
I  won  several  events  by  a  head,  in  which  I  know  if 
they  had  been  run  a  second  faster,  or  if  he  had  had 
ten  pounds  more  weight  to  carry,  I  believe  the  result 
would  have  been  the  same.  I  learnt  all  his  peculiarities. 
How  that  horse  just  loved  to  race  !  He  would  line 
up  with  the  others  as  quiet  as  a  lamb  ;  then  he  would 
break  away  and  take  his  position.  He  always  came 
along  about  three  furlongs  from  home  and — won. 
As  soon  as  he  passed  the  post  his  ears  would  change. 
Surely  if  there  is  any  real  expression  about  a  horse  it 
is  in  his  ears.  No  matter  how  hot  the  finish  had  been 
Belmar  would  relax  after  he  had  finished  his  gallop, 
and  would  hardly  even  make  an  effort  to  walk  to  the 
paddock.  He  would  lick  my  face  like  a  dog  and  never 
kicked  or  bit  anyone. 

I  have  always  claimed  that  the  horse  is  the  most 
intelligent  animal  in  the  world.  I  have  argued  it 
out  again  and  again,  especially  in  connection  with  the 
old-time  rivalry  between  horses  and  dogs.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  a  horse  never  gets  the  same  chances 
that  a  dog  does.  A  dog  is  about  the  house,  is  talked 
to,  sees  what  human  beings  are  doing  from  morning 
to  night,  gets  familiar  with  the  sound  of  words,  and 
generally  is  trained  or  given  lessons  to  like  a  child. 
But  the  horse  is  so  much  more  alone  ;  he  is  left  to  him- 
self. If  you  could  get  a  thoroughbred  as  small  in  size 
as,  say,  I  am  compared  with  Jack  Johnson,  and  let 
that  little  horse  run  about  a  house,  well — Heaven 
knows  what  he  couldn't  do  in  the  way  of  parlour  tricks. 
I  only  put  this  down  by  the  way.     Yes,  people  should 

88 


ANOTHER  BROTHER 

always  remember,  when  placing  the  dog  in  front  of 
the  horse  for  intelligence,  that  we  do  not  take  the 
horse  into  bed,  and  into  our  living  rooms  ;  we  do  not 
let  them  sleep  on  our  sofas  and  chairs. 

Altogether  in  that  1898  season  in  America  up  to 
August  I  rode  about  190  winners.  Just  before  I  left, 
in  that  month,  I  began  to  feel  tired,  extraordinary  as 
it  may  seem,  and  I  was  even  thinking  of  retiring  for 
two  or  three  months  in  order  to  go  shooting  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind.  I  had  got  as  far  as  I  could  get  in 
the  way  of  riding  success  and  I  was  longing  to  achieve 
something  in  another  walk  of  life.  That  was  why  I 
wasn't  sorry  when  the  message  came  for  me  from  Lord 
William  and  I  got  permission  to  sail.  A  lot  of  American 
sports  had  made  up  their  minds  to  follow  me  across 
in  order  to  back  my  mounts.  Indeed  they  went  by  the 
same  ship,  and  claimed  me  on  board — that  is  to  say, they 
lost  no  time  in  striking  up  an  acquaintance.  I  didn't 
own  the  ship,  so  I  was  in  no  way  responsible  for 
what  people  afterwards  called  the  "  American 
invasion." 

I  didn't  take  Ed.  Gaines  with  me  this  time,  but  for 
a  day  or  so  I  had  an  idea  of  letting  my  brother  Fremont 
have  the  trip.  However,  I  altered  my  mind.  He 
was  making  his  living  training  a  few  horses  for  Mr 
Fleischman  out  West  and  I  thought  he  had  better 
stick  to  that — for  the  present  at  least.  I  also  had  it 
in  my  mind  that  he  might  be  developed  and  get  a 
match  on  fighting,  for  he  was  about  the  hardest  hitting 
bantam  weight  I  have  ever  struck.  Jimmy  Berry,  the 
champion  bantam,  remembered  my  poor  brother, 
and  used  to  tell  me  several  times  that  Fremont  had  a 
bigger  thump  for  his  weight  than  nineteen  boys  out  of 
twenty  he  had  fought.  It  will  be  remembered  that 
Berry  was  some  authority  :   it  was  he  who  unfortun- 

89 


TOD  SLOAN 

ately  killed  Walter  Kroot  at  the  National  Sporting 
Club,  London. 

I  was  in  Jim's  corner  that  night,  and  it  was  not  till 
the  twentieth  round  that  the  last  blow  hit  over  the 
heart  put  Kroot  out.  Of  course  we  were  all  very  upset. 
I  remember  that  Berry  came  to  my  room  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  They  had  told  him  that 
Kroot  would  get  over  it,  but  my  own  idea  was  then 
and  always  has  been — although  I  didn't  say  so  at  the 
time — that  it  was  only  a  matter  of  minutes  that  Kroot 
could  live  after  Berry  hit  him.  About  four  o'clock  we 
telephoned  and  heard  that  Kroot  was  dead.  They 
arrested  Berry,  but  let  him  out  on  bail  and  everyone 
was  held  blameless,  the  verdict  being  given  as  simple 
misadventure.  I  bring  this  in  just  to  show  that,  if 
a  man  of  Berry's  class  could  think  so  well  of  my  brother, 
who  by  the  way  was  two  years  older  than  me,  it  was 
worth  my  giving  a  thought  to  developing  him.  How- 
ever, poor  chap,  he  was  so  unlucky  that  I  decided  I'd 
better  not.  He  cried  on  the  wharf — partly  over  the 
luggage  business  and  partly  because  he  wasn't  going 
with  me. 

Lord  William  was  if  possible  kinder  than  ever  to 
me  when  I  got  back  to  England,  and  they  were  a  good 
lot  of  horses  that  they  had  ready  for  the  autumn 
campaign.  It  was  during  these  three  months  that  I 
was  to  have  the  greatest  surprise  of  my  life.  I  was 
to  have  a  chance  of  speaking  to  the  late  King  Edward, 
then  Prince  of  Wales.  One  day  at  Newmarket  Lord 
William  came  for  me  to  the  jockeys'  room  and  asked 
me  to  put  on  my  coat  over  my  riding  clothes  and 
come  out.  Getting  into  the  Birdcage  he  told  me  that 
the  Prince  had  sent  for  me,  and  that  I  was  to  be 
presented  to  him.  We  w^alked  to  where  the  Prince 
was  standing,  and  he  smiled  as  I  came  towards  him 

90 


THE  PRINCE'S  MAGNETISM 

and  shook  my  hand  very  warmly.  Never  in  my  life 
have  I  been  put  so  much  at  my  ease  nor  treated  so 
splendidly.  After  all  I  was  only  a  visiting  American, 
and  only  a  jockey  at  that^ — although  I  had  been  doing 
so  well  at  my  game. 

The  Prince  asked  me  a  lot  of  questions.  Was  I 
happy?  How  did  I  like  England?  What  did  I 
think  of  the  racing,  of  the  grass  courses  ?  Just  before 
I  left  him — feeling  all  the  time  as  if  I'd  like  to  talk  to 
him  the  entire  afternoon — he  said  that  I  should  ride 
for  him  some  time  or  other,  and  he  gave  me  time  to 
answer  :   "  It  would  be  a  pride  and  honour  to  do  so." 

There  were  several  other  opportunities  of  meeting 
and  talking  to  that  great  kind  big-hearted  man.  I 
used  to  think  to  myself  how  pleased  they  would  be  at 
home  and  how  they  would  ask  me  all  about  it,  and 
what  the  American  papers  would  say.  I  can  tell  you 
that  although  I  come  from  democratic  America,  there 
was  a  wonderful  impression  left  on  me  by  the  great 
personal  attraction  of  that  royal  gentleman.  It  sort 
of  drew  me  to  him  in  the  same  way  that  a  magnetic 
crane  in  all  its  strength  will  pick  up  scrap  iron.  I 
don't  mean  to  say  I  came  off  the  scrap  heap  !  But 
perhaps  many  can  understand  the  different  emotions 
I  had  then  and  after  when  thinking  of  that  presenta- 
tion. The  impression  never  seemed  to  wear  off  either 
even  when  he  spoke  to  me  again — as  he  did  frequently. 

One  day  he  told  me  that  he  was  no  gambler,  and 
that  as  a  rule  he  hardly  ever  had  more  on  a  horse  than 
twenty-five  pounds,  but  that  he  used  to  make  an 
exception  and  risk  a  couple  of  hundred  on  anything 
that  I  was  riding  and  that  I  told  him  I  thought  would 
win. 

I  remember  once — it  was  the  last  race  of  the 
year  at  the  Newmarket  meetings — I  was  riding  a  horse 

91 


TOD  SLOAN 

called  Encombe  that  I  had  influenced  someone  a  few 
days  before  to  buy  out  of  a  selling  race.  On  my  way 
to  mount  Encombe  in  the  paddock  the  Prince  beckoned 
to  me.  He  was  standing  with  Lord  Marcus  Beresford, 
who  was  holding  the  bridle  of  a  colt  Richard  Marsh 
had  in  the  same  race. 

"  Sloan,"  said  the  Prince,  "  what  are  you  riding  ?  " 

I  told  him  Encombe. 

"  Do  you  think  you  have  a  chance  ?  "  he  asked, 
and  I  answered  frankly  that  I  thought  Encombe  was 
a  good  thing. 

Lord  Marcus  spoke  up  then  and  told  me  I  was  wrong 
and  that  Encombe  would  be  nowhere.  "  We  shall 
beat  Encombe,"  he  went  on,  "  and  Dundonald  will 
beat  both." 

I  listened  of  course,  but  before  I  left  to  get  in  the 
saddle  I  turned  to  the  Prince  :  "  Never  you  mind 
what  Lord  Marcus  says,  your  Royal  Highness.  You 
can  be  a  plunger  here  and  have  a  bit  on  me." 

The  Prince  roared  ;  he  was  laughing  at  my  nerve  at 
speaking  so  boldly  to  him  I  suppose.  Well  I  was  think- 
ing of  what  I  had  said  all  through  the  race.  I  beat 
Dundonald  after  a  desperate  finish. 

The  Prince  told  me  afterwards  that  he  had  taken  my 
advice  and  had  put  two  hundred  pounds  on  Encombe, 
who  I  think  started  at  about  7  to  2. 

When  I  was  talking  to  the  Prince  I  couldn't  help 
admiring  the  way  he  dressed.  Especially  did  I  like 
his  overcoats,  hats,  and  cravats.  Now  some  of  the 
American  papers  used  to  twist  about  everything  I  said 
— and  didn't  say  for  the  matter  of  that — and  some 
reporters,  by  whom  I  wouldn't  be  interviewed,  would 
invent  all  sorts  of  things  on  their  own.  One  yellow 
journal  in  particular  made  me  say,  without  ever 
talking  to  me  about  the  subject,  that  I  thought  the 

92 


LORD  WILLIAM'S  REBUKE 

King  of  England  dressed  very  badly.  Of  course  this 
leaked  through  somehow,  and  Lord  Marcus  afterwards 
called  me  over  the  coals  for  what  had  appeared.  I 
was,  and  am,  quite  sure  that  it  had  only  been  written 
to  cause  trouble.  Anyhow  Lord  Marcus  said  severely, 
"  You  should  never  speak  of  him  [meaning  the  Prince] 
at  all." 

"  I  never  did,  my  lord,"  I  answered.  "  The  most 
I  ever  did  was  to  answer  a  question  of  one  paper  saying 
that  the  Prince  was  a  great  sportsman,  speaking  of 
the  pleasure  all  English  people  had  in  seeing  him  walk- 
ing round  like  a  private  citizen  in  the  paddock  with 
no  one  bothering  him  at  all." 

Speaking  about  being  presented  :  when  the  present 
King  George,  then  Duke  of  York,  was  at  one  of  the 
July  meetings  at  Newmarket  Lord  William  came  in 
the  Plantation  where  I  was  just  ready  to  get  in  the 
saddle,  and  told  me  I  was  to  speak  to  the  Duke,  the 
Duchess,  and  one  or  two  others  of  the  royal  family. 
The  Duke  of  York  shook  hands  with  me  and  asked 
questions,  and  I  bowed  low,  having  a  bit  of  experience 
by  this  time.  I  thought  I  was  getting  on  fine.  The 
conversation  lasted  quite  two  minutes,  and  the  present 
King  was  very  kind  to  me.  I  was  tickled  to  death 
when  I  was  shaken  hands  with  and  went  off  to  mount. 
I  looked  to  Lord  William  for  approval  but  he  hadn't 
got  a  smile,  and  only  said  quite  simply  :  "  WTiy  didn't 
you  take  your  hat  off  ?  " 

This  got  me  up  and  I  bleated  :  "  Why  should  I 
have  to  go  back  to  the  jockeys'  room  right  over  on 
the  other  side  of  the  course,  my  lord  ?  I  should  have 
to  brush  my  hair  and  tie  my  cap  on  again.  I  shouldn't 
have  had  time.  I  couldn't  have  ridden  in  this  race 
then.  Remember  I'm  an  American,  my  lord,  and 
don't  understand  all  these  things." 

93 


TOD  SLOAN 

He  only  smiled,  but  I  was  sore  that  I  hadn't 
done  exactly  as  I  should,  especially  after  thinking 
I  had  such  swell  manners.  When  I  was  presented  to 
King  Edward  I  heard  nothing  about  the  cap  business  ! 

At  that  time  I  received  so  much  kindness  from  all 
the  members  of  the  Royal  Family  with  whom  I  came 
in  contact  that  I  should  like  now,  while  I  am  on  the 
subject,  to  tell  the  story  of  Nunsuch,  whom  I  rode  for 
the  then  Prince  of  Wales  (King  Edward  VII.)  in  the 
Cambridgeshire  and  the  Old  Cambridgeshire. 


94 


CHAPTER  XIII 

NUNSUCH's    CAMBRIDGESHIRE 

Newspaper  Criticism — "  Boss  "  Croker's  Shooting — Breaking  the  Rules 

I  WAS  looking  forward  to  riding  Nunsuch  in  the 
Cambridgeshire.  This  four-year-old  of  the  Prince's 
had  been  well  backed  and  on  the  day  of  the  race  she 
started  second  favourite.  The  race  was  a  disaster, 
but  in  the  sequel  I  received  more  kindness  from  the 
Prince  and  as  much  or  more  evidence  of  good  sports- 
manship as  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  discover  in  any 
similar  instance.  I  heard  that  all  the  closest  friends 
of  the  royal  owner  had  backed  the  mare  and  I  loiow 
the  bookmakers  had  written  the  name  of  Nunsuch  in 
heavy  wagers  to  many  of  my  own  friends. 

At  the  start  Mr  Arthur  Coventry  accidentally  left 
some  of  the  best  favourites,  including  Nunsuch,  at 
the  post.  The  truth  was  that  we  were  all  w^alking 
the  backward  way  of  the  course  when  he  dropped 
his  flag  and  in  the  result  w^e  took  no  part  in  the  race. 

One  of  the  best- known  sporting  writers  in  England 
— ^the  late  Mr  Greenwood — said  that  "  The  right-hand 
division  were  scarcely  prepared  for  the  fall  of  the 
flag  and  four  of  them  had  their  chances  completely 
destroyed.  To  Mr  Coventry  this  failure  would  be 
vexatious  in  the  extreme,  the  more  so  as  he  had  been 
wonderfully  successful  of  late." 

My  disappointment  over  this  can  well  be  imagined, 
and  I  felt  very,  very  badly  on  returning  to  the  weighing 
enclosure,  and  saw  the  Prince   coming  towards  me 

95 


TOD  SLOAN 

smiling.  I  couldn't  see  anything  to  smile  at  myself 
and  I  must  have  shown  it,  for  I  know  that  I  felt  all 
the  other  way !  Well,  the  Prince  came  up  to  me  and 
said  :  "  Well  such  things  do  happen  and  it  cannot  be 
helped  ;  I  will  start  Nunsuch  again  in  the  Old  Cam- 
bridgeshire the  day  after  to-morrow  and  you  shall  ride 
her  again." 

I  won  with  her  then,  beating  practically  the  same 
field  that  she  had  met  before.  After  this  race  the 
Prince  gave  me  the  set  of  colours  I  had  worn  and 
a  diamond  horse  and  jockey  pin.  That  was  the 
beginning  of  riding  a  good  many  winners  for  the  late 
King  Edward. 

I  should  like  to  state  here  that  in  the  last  season 
in  which  I  rode — 1900 — I  had  the  great  surprise  at 
Doncaster  of  Lord  Marcus  Beresford  coming  up  to 
me  and  telling  me  that  the  Prince  wished  to  have  first 
call  on  me  for  the  season  of  1901  and  that  he  was 
prepared  to  make  me  the  offer  of  six  thousand  guineas 
for  the  claim.  I  accepted  on  the  spot  and  looked 
forward  with  the  utmost  pride  towards  keeping  the 
contract.  The  English  Stewards,  however,  prevented 
me  from  fulfilling  it. 

Just  as  I  had  fixed  up  everything  with  Lord  Marcus, 
his  brother.  Lord  William,  had  a  cable  from  Mr 
Whitney  in  America  : 

"  We  must  have  Sloan,  get  him  at  any  price,  he  is 
far  ahead  of  the  lot  and  worth  anything  for  big  races 
even  with  all  his  faults." 

Lord  William  showed  me  the  cablegram  and  I  had 
to  tell  him  what  had  happened.  I  could  see  that  he 
was  a  bit  upset — I  won't  say  annoyed — but  he  said 
he  would  like  to  try  to  get  me  out  of  the  agreement 
with  the  Prince.  He  "  never  believed,"  he  said, 
"  that   the   English    people   would    put   up   with   an 

96 


NEWSPAPER  CRITICISM 

American  jockey  being  first  rider  to  the  King-to-be." 
He  added  :  "  My  little  man,  I  am  afraid  you  have 
made  a  big  mistake.  I  hope  not  though.  Mr 
Whitney  and  I  will  have  to  put  up  with  a  second  call 
on  you."  And  then  he  told  me  that  he  would  pay 
three  thousand  guineas  for  that. 

Some  of  the  English  papers  had  a  good  deal  to  say 
about  this  matter,  one  writer  going  so  far  as  to  say 
that  "  the  retainer  bestowed  upon  Sloan  caused  great 
astonishment  on  account  of  the  exalted  position  of 
the  patron  "  ;  and  further  went  on  :  "  Owing  to  the 
Prince's  great  popularity  as  a  sportsman  people  are 
slow  to  criticise  adversely  anything  his  Royal  Highness 
does  ;  however,  there  can  be  no  gainsaying  that  the 
shelving  of  the  most  representative  and  best  conducted 
of  English  jockeys  in  favour  of  an  American  professional 
has  given  rise  to  a  very  painful  feeling ;  perhaps  the 
Prince  was  not  altogether  responsible  for  engaging 
Sloan."  How  circumstances  led  to  that  contract 
not  being  carried  out  will  be  told  in  due  course. 

•  ••••••• 

The  King  often  laughed  over  the  story  of  my  visit 
to  Lord  William's  place  at  Deepdene  for  the  shooting. 
I  had  taken  down  a  new  gun  from  a  London  maker 
on  which  I  paid  a  deposit  of  fifteen  pounds,  making 
the  bargain  that  if  it  suited  me  I  would  give  him  the 
balance  and  that  if  it  didn't  I  would  pay  a  sum  for  the 
use  of  it. 

We  hadn't  long  started,  and  I  took  my  first  shot. 
The  gun  burst ;  showing  at  the  break  jagged  pieces  like 
a  saw.  I  know  I  had  a  very  narrow  escape  of  losing 
two  or  three  fingers.  I  could  see  that  all  the  other 
guests  thought  it  was  my  fault,  and  that  I  was  not  used 
to  firearms.  The  truth  was  that  I  had  handled  them 
all  my  life  and  perhaps  I  could  have  given  points  with 
G  97 


TOD  SLOAN 

any  gun  to  the  majority  of  those  present.  When  the 
accident  happened  Lord  Wilham  said  kindly  to  me, 
"  It  can't  be  helped,"  and  I  felt  that  he  and  some  of 
the  others  were  pitying  me,  perhaps  even  laughing  at 
me  ! 

Anyhow  I  asked  the  loan  of  another  gun  but  Lord 
William  answered  in  a  sort  of  fatherly  manner  :  "  Oh, 
surely  you  don't  want  to  shoot  again  to-day,  do  you  ?  " 
I  insisted  however  and  ultimately  I  got  a  gun  that 
didn't  fit  me  a  bit,  but  I  went  in  to  do  my  best  with  it. 
Then  I  heard  someone  say,  "  We'd  better  stop  before 
Sloan  shoots  somebody  !  " — and  when  soon  after 
someone  else  called  "  woodcock,"  everyone's  idea  was 
to  get  out  of  my  neighbourhood. 

I  missed  my  first  shot  or  two  and  I  felt  pretty  sore 
when  I  heard  another  remark  :  "  Sloan  hasn't  shot 
anyone  yet."  It  made  me  mad.  But  all  the  same  I 
got  in  a  pretty  right  and  left,  which  made  me  feel  a 
little  better,  and  the  day  finished  up  with  my  having 
done  my  share  at  all  events. 

There  had  been  an  amusing  incident  at  luncheon 
that  day.  It  was  a  large  party  but  it  seemed  waste 
of  time  with  such  good  sport  awaiting  us  that  an  hour 
should  be  taken  for  the  meal — and  in  those  days  I 
was  never  an  eater  midday.  Lord  William  was  kind 
enough  to  press  me  to  take  something  but  I  told  him 
that  I  "  wanted  to  shoot,"  and  I  couldn't  if  I  was 
helped  to  a  lot  of  good  things.  But  when  he  again 
suggested  that  I  should  eat  a  bit  I  said  I  would  have 
some  butter  with  the  bread  I  had  just  broken.  Then 
it  was  discovered  that  there  was  none  on  the  table,  a 
thing  which  struck  me  as  rather  odd  considering  that 
butter  is  always  put  on  in  America  for  meals.  I 
noticed  then  that  butter  in  any  quantity  does  not  make 
its  appearance  in  English  homes  until  the  cheese  is 

98 


BOSS  CROKER'S  SHOOTING 

brought  on.  Anyhow  the  butler  was  asked  for  butter 
and  some  little  delay  occurring  in  its  being  produced, 
Lord  William  asked  again,  and  eventually  a  small  plate 
of  it  was  put  in  front  of  me.  I  could  always  eat  bread 
and  butter  when  having  no  real  appetite  or  desire  to 
eat  anything  else,  and  I  managed  to  keep  company  with 
others,  really  lunching  that  day  so  far  as  my  butter  went 
anyway.  When  I  left  that  evening  after  the  shoot 
Lord  William  said,  "  Good  night,  little  man.  I'm  glad 
you  showed  them  you  could  shoot  birds  instead  of 
men,  and  the  next  time  you  come  here  to  meals  there 
shall  be  dishes  of  butter  all  over  the  table  !  " 

Writing  of  shooting  reminds  me  of  another  story 
which  Lord  William  told  King  Edward  and  which 
tickled  him.  It  was  a  pure  invention  of  mine  at  the 
expense  of  Mr  Richard  Croker  but  it  was  repeated  from 
one  to  the  other.  The  "  Boss  "  had  chaffed  me  once 
about  something  or  other,  so  I  got  even  with  him  by 
saying  very  seriously  to  two  or  three  gossips  who  I 
knew  would  hand  it  about  that,  when  Mr  Croker 
and  I  were  in  adjoining  butts  one  day  shooting,  a  bird 
came  running  towards  him.  According  to  me  the 
"  Boss  "  had  his  gun  ready  to  fire. 

"  Don't  shoot  the  bird  running,"  I  called  out.  He 
replied  (again  according  to  me  !)  :  "  No  I  won't,  I'm 
waiting  for  it  to  stop  !  " 

Mr  Croker  met  me  after  that  and  said,  "  You  villain, 
I  can't  get  away  from  that  yarn  you  spun  about  me! 
I  heard  it  yesterday  in  Dublin  and  it  has  even  got  over 
to  America  and  has  been  printed  from  New  York  to 
the  middle  West,  and  from  there  to  California,  and 
South  to  New  Orleans.  Sometimes  I  begin  to  think 
it's  true,  and  most  of  my  friends  seem  to  be  quite 
certain  about  it."  Then  he  laughed  as  heartily  as  I 
did  all  the  time  and  shook  his  fist  at  me. 

99 


TOD  SLOAN 

There  was  one  race  I  rode  for  the  King  in  which  he 
thought  I  must  have  brought  him  luck,  for  the  animal 
I  was  on  might  have  been  beaten  many  a  length  by  the 
best  horse  I  think  I  ever  saw  up  to  seven  furlongs.  It 
was  in  the  Portland  Plate  at  Doncaster  in  1900. 
Morny  Cannon  rode  Eager,  the  horse  I  have  just  re- 
ferred to,  and  I  was  on  Lucknow,  owned  by  the  Prince. 
We  swept  along  together  in  the  last  hundred  yards. 
I  was  on  the  rails  ;  "  Morny  "  and  I  were  neck  and 
neck  :  Eager,  his  mount,  was  full  of  running ;  in  fact 
he  had  pounds  in  hand.  Perhaps  "  Morny  "  wanted 
to  make  a  fancy  finish  of  it  and  to  win  by  a  narrow 
margin.  He  didn't  exactly  squeeze  me  on  the  rails, 
but  certainly  I  was  hampered  a  bit.  However  if  his 
idea  was  just  to  win  it  was  upset,  for  as  we  passed  the 
judge's  box  Lucknow's  nose  happened  to  be  just  in 
front.  Frankly,  I  was  not  sure  of  it  myself  but  I  hoped 
it  was  so.  The  judge  gave  it  a  short  head.  I  am 
afraid  "  Morny  "  was  very  upset.  I  dare  say  it  was 
one  of  the  greatest  disappointments  of  his  riding 
career.  There  was  for  a  few  minutes  a  talk  of  an 
objection,  but  in  the  end  nobody  said  anything,  and 
certainly  there  would  have  been  no  grounds  for  it. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  one  of  the  reasons  for 
my  getting  such  a  swollen  head  was  that  I  was  above 
myself  altogether  from  the  fact  that  the  Prince  spoke 
to  me  so  amiably.  On  the  contrary,  looking  back  to 
the  past  I  certainly  believe  that  in  every  respect  he 
lifted  me  up  and  put  me  at  my  best  with  my  own 
thoughts  and  made  me  hope  to  live  up  to  what  I 
ought  to  have  been  but  what  I  Avas  not.  Had  I  been 
able  to  fulfil  the  contract  for  the  Royal  stable  that  had 
been  made  with  me  for  1901 1  am  sure  I  shouldn't  have 
given  way  to  the  temptation  to  get  about  so  much  and 
— w^ell,  back  horses.     Two  blacks  do  not  make  a  white 

100 


Mv  First  Year  in   Exc.i.anu 


BREAKING  THE  RULES 

and  I'm  not  going  to  excuse  myself  for  breaking  a  rule, 
but  I  suppose  many  jockeys  have  sinned  with  regard 
to  an  odd  wager  or  two. 

In  fact,  I  have  yet  to  know  of  the  jockey  who  has 
not  had  a  bet,  if  only  a  small  amount.  The  allurement 
is  too  strong — too  strong  for  human  nature — when  you 
are  told  and  believe  that  you  are  on  a  rare  good  thing. 

Besides,  in  that  year,  1900,  it  would  have  been  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  keep  up  what  was  compared  with  other 
years  really  a  comparatively  modest  expenditure  with- 
out betting.  Little  or  nothing  came  my  way  except 
my  riding  fees. 


lOI 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A    PERIOD    OF    SUCCESS 

Caiman's  "Middle  Park" — What  Flying  Fox  was — Doggerel  on — "Me" 
— Disappointments — "  Impossible" — Yes  or  No 

The  first  time  that  I  rode  five  winners  in  one  day  in 
England  was  at  Newmarket  on  30th  September  1898. 
I  was  feehng  very  fit  that  day,  and  I  thought  I  might 
win  two  or  three  races  for  Lord  WilUam,  but  the  record 
all  round  amounted  to  five — three  for  our  own  stable, 
and  two  for  other  owners.  In  the  first  event,  a  Selling 
Plate,  I  was  just  beaten  a  head  on  an  animal  called 
The  Wake,  Tommy  Loates  just  getting  home  on  Eau 
Gallic  ;  they  were  a  bad  lot  all  of  them.  Then  came 
the  Bretby  Welter,  where  I  got  well  away  on  Draco 
for  Lord  William,  and  won  anyhow  by  six  lengths, 
slight  odds  had  been  laid  on  the  winner.  I  won  the 
next  race,  the  Scurry  Nursery,  also  for  Lord  William, 
on  Manatee,  having  led  all  the  way.  In  the  Rous 
Memorial  Stakes  the  stable  intended  starting  Desmond, 
but  Landrail  was  pulled  out  instead.  There  were 
only  three  of  us  and  the  public  had  a  big  gamble  on 
Quassia  ridden  by  Morny  Cannon,  but  pushing  Landrail 
out  on  coming  down  Bushes  Hill  I  got  home  easily  by 
three  lengths.  Libra  was  my  next  winner,  another 
of  Lord  William's  ;  in  that  race  Tovaros  was  thought 
to  be  a  good  thing,  and  was  backed  accordingly,  but  he 
couldn't  get  a  place.  I  brought  Libra  out  at  the  same 
place  as  I  had  the  winner  of  the  previous  race  and  won 
by  a  couple  of  lengths.     In  the  Newmarket  St  Leger 

102 


CAIMAN'S  MIDDLE  PARK 

"  Morny  "  and  I  rode  a  desperate  race  home,  he  on 
Collar  and  myself  on  Galashiels.  He  had  waited  two 
or  three  lengths  behind  me  till  three  hundred  yards 
from  home  but  mine  just  got  past  the  box  by  a  head. 
In  the  Rutland  Stakes  which  finished  up  the  day  there 
was  a  good  thing  to  bet  on  in  Santa  Casa,  ridden  by 
Madden,  and  trained  by  Jarvis.  Santa  Casa  really 
ought  to  have  been  big  odds  on  instead  of  at  even 
money.  Of  course  it  was  my  previous  success  which 
caused  my  mount  to  be  at  such  a  false  price  ;  they 
actually  took  5  to  2  about  it — Boomer  his  name  was. 
He  ought  to  have  been  at  100  to  1  against,  even  in 
that  field  of  four  !  Certainly  he  had  no  pretensions 
to  gallop  with  the  other  three.  Of  course  I  was  beaten 
out  of  a  place. 

Still  it  was  a  pretty  good  day  to  put  in  five  wins 
and  a  second  out  of  seven  mounts. 

A  lot  of  money  went  that  day  on  Asterie  for  the 
Cesarewitch  run  two  weeks  later.'  Although  it  was 
reported  that  I  was  to  be  up  on  the  favourite  Chalereux, 
some  of  my  friends  who  had  made  a  packet  that  after- 
noon were  convinced  that  Asterie  could  win,  and  that 
I  would  ride,  so  she  was  backed  accordingly.  But 
I  never  had  any  look-in  at  beating  Chalereux — and 
never  had  the  chance  of  riding  him  either.  He  finished 
up  favourite  and  beat  me.  My  mount,  Asterie, 
whipped  the  previous  year's  winner.  Merman. 

I  shall  always  remember  the  Middle  Park  Plate 
which  I  won  on  Caiman  with  Flvincp  Fox  second.  I 
should  say  that  Caiman  was  one  of  the  poorest  class 
horses  who  ever  won  the  race,  and  it  really  was  a  shame 
that  a  horse  like  Flying  Fox,  a  superior  animal  in  every 
way,  should  have  been  done  out  of  what  he  so  much 
deserved.  I  repeat  :  Caiman  was  one  of  the  most  over- 
rated horses  I  ever  knew.     The  truth  was  that  I  under- 

103 


TOD  SLOAN 

stood  him  and  had  him  under  such  perfect  control  that 
it  was  possible  to  do  more  with  him  than  with  perhaps 
any  horse  of  similar  stamp. 

Caiman  had  been  a  winner,  but  why  they  should 
have  taken  7  to  4  about  him — Flying  Fox  was  at 
the  same  price — it  is  difficult  for  me  to  say,  except 
for  the  fact  that  they  didn't  know  how  poor  an  animal 
he  was  by  the  side  of  the  other. 

In  the  race  the  other  jockeys  let  me  make  my  own 
pace,  "  Morny  "  holding  off  on  his  crack  until  the 
place  at  which  he  generally  began  his  run.  We  went 
slower  and  slower  till  we  got  almost  to  a  walk  just 
before  striking  the  rise  out  of  the  last  dip.  I  was 
watching  him  and  saw  him  preparing  to  come  along. 
So  I  shot  mine  out  before  he  got  moving  and  stole  the 
race,  Flying  Fox,  although  going  great  guns,  not 
having  quite  time  enough  to  get  up. 

I  hope  it  does  not  seem  that  I  am  claiming  for  myself 
too  much  judgment  at  the  expense  of  others,  but 
without  any  brag  or  bounce  I  must  say  that  there  was 
such  a  hopeless  ignorance  of  pace  among  the  majority 
of  those  riding  in  the  race,  that  I  suppose  I  managed 
to  kid  them  and  so  got  where  I  did.  I  always  consider 
that,  however  much  of  a  "  general  "  I  may  have  been 
in  some  races  in  my  career,  I  can  shake  hands  with 
myself  on  that  Middle  Park  Plate  being  the  greatest 
achievement  of  my  life. 

After  the  race  Lord  William,  Charlie  Mills  and  others 
came  round  saying  what  a  marvellous  horse  Caiman 
was.  But  they  wouldn't  give  me  any  credit  for  the 
win  ;  they  kept  on  repeating  that  Caiman  was  the 
greatest  of  his  age  in  training,  and  they  stuck  to  it 
too,  even  though  I  told  them  he  was  far  behind  other 
horses  which  were  unquestionably  inferior  to  Flying 
Fox.     Charlie  Mills  and  I  had  quite  high  words  about 

104 


WHAT  FLYING  FOX  WAS 

it,  I  remember,  and  I  told  him  that  in  a  true  run  race, 
and  if  I  had  a  chance  of  riding  Flying  Fox,  I  would  bet 
him  anything  from  a  thousand  to  ten  thousand  pounds 
that  Flying  Fox  would  beat  Caiman  easily.  "  Morny  " 
rode  Caiman  once  at  Sandown  Park  after  this  and 
beat  some  very  moderate  horse  quite  easily,  and  that 
was  taken  as  additional  evidence  :  it  put  the  stamp  on 
the  much  boosted  Caiman.  We  all  know  of  cases  where 
geese  have  been  made  into  swans  but  there  never  was 
a  better  example  than  that  of  Flying  Fox  and  Caiman. 
What  a  great  horse  Flying  Fox  was  was  perhaps 
not  quite  imderstood  by  the  Duke  of  Westminster  and 
John  Porter  during  the  horse's  two-year-old  days,  bat 
I  had  formed  my  opinion  of  him,  which  nothing  would 
shake.  I  was  convinced  that  he  was  the  best  horse  I 
had  ever  seen  in  England,  and  that  he  would  turn  out 
as  good  in  reputation  as  Ormonde,  who  I  never  saw, 
but  who  I  had  heard  so  much  about. 

One  day  at  Chester  a  year  or  two  later,  when  I  was 
riding  something  against  one  of  the  Duke's,  he  said 
to  me,  "  Are  you  going  to  beat  us  again  to-day,  Sloan, 
like  you  did  on  Caiman  ?  " 

I  answered,  "  Yes,  I  am,  your  Grace  ;  but  what  a 
shame  it  was  that  Flying  Fox  should  ever  have  been 
beaten  !     I  should  say  he's  the  best  you  ever  had." 

The  Duke  told  me  then  that  at  one  time  they  couldn't 
believe  it,  but  he  added,  "  Mr  Porter  and  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  is  just  as  good  as  Ormonde, 
and  in  some  respects  better." 

That  is  an  opinion  which  should  go  down  to  future 
generations  of  horse  lovers.  I  know  that  Mr  Porter 
will  remember  the  late  Duke  saying  it.  Wlien  the  time 
comes  in  this  book  for  me  to  tell  the  story  of  Flying 
Fox's  Derby  I  shall  explain  how  he  might  have  lost 
to  Holocauste,  but  that  will  be  no  disparagement  to 

105 


TOD  SLOAN 

him,  for  all  those  who  saw  the  race  will  remember  that 
Flying  Fox  broke  away  no  fewer  than  five  times — 
each  break  numing  from  two  to  three  furlongs.  This 
took  such  a  lot  out  of  him  that  I  had  the  race  won  on 
the  grey  Frenchman  when  he  so  unaccountably  broke 
his  leg.  However,  all  conditions  equal,  Holocauste 
would  not  have  had  a  chance.  Mr  Edmond  Blanc 
indeed  deserved  the  success  he  secured  when  he  paid 
what  was  then  a  record  price  for  Flying  Fox.  The 
Turf  was  going  very  well  in  America  at  the  time  and 
an  effort  should  have  been  made  there  to  buy  him. 
Look  what  he  got  in  France  :  Ajax,  Gouvernant,  Adam, 
Val  d'Or,  Jardy  and  others.  The  two  defeats  of  his 
career  ?     Well — these  things  will  happen  ! 

Just  about  this  time  one  of  the  London  papers  ran 
a  competition  about  "  Sloan."  I  kept  copies  of  some 
of  the  results.     Here  was  the  first  prize  "  poem." 

"  Of  Toddy  Sloan  now  let  us  sing, 
Whose  praises  through  the  country  ring. 
Undoubtedly  the  jockey  king, 

Proclaimed  by  everybody. 

"  Unrivalled  he  upon  a  horse, 
Possessed  of  spirit  and  resource. 
One  always  should  expect  of  course. 
Some  spirit  in  a  toddy. 

"  Although  of  jockeys  there  are  lots, 
Expert  like  Cannon,  Loates,  and  Watts, 
It's  Sloan  that  every  backer  spots. 

From  Sykes  to  Lord  Tom  Noddy. 

"  And  if  some  unbelievers  smile, 
At  what  they  call  his  monkey  style. 
They've  got  their  ponies  all  the  whole. 
Upon  the  mounts  of  Toddy. 

io6 


DOGGEREL  ON— ME 

"  So  backers  cheer  and  bookies  groan, 
As  race  by  race  is  won  by  Sloan, 
On  horses  chestnut,  bay  or  roan, 

No  matter  if  they're  shoddy. 

"  They  may  be  broken-kneed  or  lame, 
He  wins  upon  them  just  the  same, 
So  here's  to  health,  and  wealth,  and  fame, 
Of  Yankee-doodle  Toddy  !  " 

Here  is  another  "  beaut." 

"  At  Chelsea  Tod  should  make  his  home. 
When  he  has  time  to  spare. 
For  if  that  way  you  chance  to  roam, 
I  know  you'U  find  Sloan's  square." 

Yet  one  more. 

"  I  loved  Fred  Archer  in  the  past, 
I  admire  Tod  Sloan  to-day, 
Still  Tommy  Loates  will  give  him  beans, 
Before  he  goes  away." 

This  was  one  at  me. 

"  The  best  way  to  appreciate  Tod  Sloan  is  to  put  him  in  the  Lord 
Mayor's  show." 

And  the  last,  which  was  much  quoted  at  the  time, 
they  keep  framed  in  my  home  at  Kokomo  : 

T  actful, 
O  riginal, 
D  aring. 

S  kilful, 
L  ucky, 
O  bservant, 
A  mbitious, 
N  erveless. 
107 


TOD  SLOAN 

The  paper  insisted  on  a  reply  from  me  and  this  is 
what  I  sent : 

"  I  like  the  English  people  immensely — at  any  rate  all  those  I 
have  come  into  contact  with,  and  those  I  don't  know  don't  matter, 
anyhow,  do  they  ?     I  like  your  English  race-courses  too. 

"The  riding  is  not  so  difficult  as  in  America  ;  here  there  is  con- 
siderably less  work.  I  appreciate  all  the  kind  tilings  that  have  been 
said  about  me.  As  to  the  criticisms  that  have  appeared,  and  which 
I  have  seen  quoted  in  one  paper  particularly,  you  may  take  it  from 
me  they  are  nonsense  from  one  end  to  the  other.  I  don't  trouble 
about  them  one  bit.  Tod  Sloan. 

Of  course  it  wasn't  always  velvet  for  those  who 
followed  me,  both  Americans  and  the  public,  for,  as  the 
papers  said,  "  There  were  occasional  proofs  that  Sloan's 
influence  on  the  market  was  independent  of  his  average 
— some  costly  reverses  might  easily  have  weakened 
its  potency — but  that  such  is  not  the  case  shows  how 
loyal  and  plucky  are  his  chief  supporters  and  how 
sheep-like  that  section  of  the  public  with  whom  it  is 
an  article  of  faith  to  back  his  mounts.  One  recognises 
Sloan  to  be  a  great  jockey  who  has  brains  as  well  as 
boots,  whose  mounts  are  to  an  extent  picked,  and  who, 
whatever  and  for  whoever  he  rides,  is  always  a  trier 
and  never  muddles  away  a  race  in  the  manner  more 
than  one  have  been  muddled  away  this  week  by  crack 
jockeys.  All  this  one  freely  admits,  but  none  the  less 
is  a  blind  worship  of  the  American  to  be  deprecated." 

Yes,  of  course  there  were  some  afternoons  when  some 
of  my  backers  looked  doAvn  their  noses.  It  was  their 
own  affair  of  course,  and  I  had  lost  a  bit  very  possibly 
myself,  but  one  thing  which  I  always  look  back  upon 
with  satisfaction  :  I  did  try  to  find  mounts  which  had 
a  chance,  but  I  can  never  remember  an  instance  of 
my  doing  somebody  else  out  of  a  ride  or  of  going 
behind  him  to  get  it.     I  simply  loved  to  win.     It  wasn't 

io8 


DISAPPOINTMENTS 

because  of  what  the  papers  said,  for  really  I  seldom 
read  anything  in  the  racing  part  except  the  descrip- 
tions of  the  previous  day's  running  and  the  weights 
for  future  events.  There  was  no  special  question 
therefore  of  my  liking  praise  or  criticism.  All  the 
same  it  w^as  natural  that  I  should  feel  keen  on  keeping 
the  hold  on  the  public  that  I  had  gained  and  on  one 
occasion,  just  after  riding  those  five  winners  at  New- 
market, I  was  due  to  appear  at  Alexandra  Park.  A 
heavy  cold  kept  me  away.  I  resented  very  much  that 
I  wasn't  able  to  see  that  Saturday  afternoon  crowd. 
There  was  some  trouble  as  a  result  of  this  which  took 
some  putting  right.  I  had  asked  Charlie  Mills  to 
make  my  excuses  to  the  Clerk  of  the  Scales  and  to 
explain  that  only  ill-health  kept  me  away.  He  forgot  all 
about  it.  Anyhow  they  were  very  angry  with  me  for 
not  fulfilling  my  engagements,  and  it  made  bad  feeling. 

Another  disappointment  I  had  about  that  time  was 
when  I  was  just  beaten  in  the  Duke  of  York  Stakes 
on  Mount  Prospect.  A  dead  outsider,  Sirenia,  a  real 
nice  mare,  pipped  me  a  head.  It  wasn't  altogether  a 
question  of  what  had  been  won  and  lost,  but  at  popular 
meetings,  and  especially  on  Saturday  afternoons,  I 
never  tired  of  hearing  the  music  of  the  boys  calling 
after  me  when  I  had  any  real  success. 

With  regard  to  amusement.  In  those  autumn 
days  of  1898  there  were  the  usual  odds  and  ends 
of  London  life — the  theatres,  music  halls,  games  of 
bridge,  supper-parties — I  only  looked  on  at  supper — 
and  there  was  the  usual  experience  of  meeting  more 
people  than  I  wanted.  Please,  please,  do  not  think 
that  I  had  such  conceit  that  I  used  to  put  aside  or  be 
casual  to  those  I  was  introduced  to,  but — ^well,  I  didn't 
always  properly  reckon  up  who  they  were.  I  know 
that  I  may  have  been  off-handed  and  I  may  in  conse- 

109 


TOD  SLOAN 

quence  have  been  thought  rude  by  those  who  were 
really  anxious  to  do  me  good  and  whom  to  know  was 
an  honour  and  privilege.  But — do  you  get  me  ?  — 
there  were  so  many  of  the  "  also  rans  "  who  got  round 
me,  scraped  introductions,  and  then  traded  on  the 
acquaintance  and  used  me  in  every  way  to  pull  their 
stunts  and  put  it  across  the  simple  people  who  were 
so  ready  to  believe  anything  from  people  who  could 
say  they  "  knew  Sloan "  !  "  Save  me  from  my 
friends  "  is  an  expression  that  Lord  William  taught  me. 

Tlie  truth  was  that  I  could  never  find  out,  to  the 
extent  I  wanted  to,  who  really  were  those  I  should 
be  with.  I  knew  quick  enough  those  I  liked,  and  I 
suppose  it  can  be  said  that  I  stuck  to  those  whose  friend- 
ship I  valued.  There  were  others  however.  A  chance 
meeting,  a  cocktail,  just  one  odd  word — it  doesn't 
matter  what  it  was  about — ^and  I  was  quite  liable  to 
hear  that  "  Sloan  had  said  " — well — this,  that  and  the 
other.  These  things  got  round  and  about  one  or  two 
of  the  big  London  hotels,  and  I  heard  afterwards  even 
that  syndicates  had  been  formed  to  back  horses,  and 
that  I  was  supposed  to  supply  the  "  information  "  ! 
It  made  me  mad  sometimes.  "  Straight  from  the 
horse's  mouth,"  was  nothing  to  what  I  was  supposed 
to  have  said  on  various  occasions  in  order  to  do  mugs 
a  good  turn.  I  know  that  there  was  all  sorts  of  money 
torn  from  various  people  who  used  to  be  about.  A 
few  of  the  "  steerers  "  didn't  settle,  and  some  were 
even  supposed  to  be  betting  for  me,  but  I  had  no 
more  to  do  with  them  than  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  people  out  of  a  thousand  who  read  this  book. 

Round  about  the  Savoy  certain  people  used  to  look 
upon  me  as  a  curiosity,  and  I  felt  sometimes  I  would 
sooner  be  up  in  my  room  reading  the  papers  from  over 
home.     It  was  the  staring  and  the  remarks  which  made 

no 


IMPOSSIBLE  -YES  OR  NO 

me — now  believe  this — SHY.  I  was  supposed  to 
swank,  but  please  don't  believe  all  that.  I  won't  go 
so  far  as  to  say  that  I  was  nervous,  but  didn't  want 
all  the  gazing  and  chatting  as  I  passed.  I  have  heard 
that  people  who  are  called  affected  can  be  so  from 
sheer  shyness — they  are  trying  to  pass  it  off.  Perhaps 
that  was  my  case. 

I  wasn't  exactly  "  unformed  "  but  I  was  quite 
likely  to  meet  those  of  a  kind  I  had  never  seen  before 
and  I  had  to  get  to  know  them — and  they  me.  Have 
I  explained  myself  ?  I  was  in  and  about  everywhere, 
I  could  do  the  weight  and  hadn't  to  spend  night  after 
night  in  Turkish  baths,  and  because  I  liked  clean  clothes 
and  felt  that  I  could  do  what  others  did — meet  my 
friends  and  have  decent  meals — my  enemies  began  to 
say  that  I  was  "  impossible."  That  was  the  beginning 
of  the  events  that  led  to  my  being  "  shopped."  AVhat 
people  said  at  that  time  was  most  undeserved  whatever 
it  may  have  been  later  on. 


Ill 


CHAPTER  XV 

TRAINERS — AND    TRAINERS 

George  Blackwell's  Ability — Byron  MacLellan — How  Horses  were  shod 

A  GREAT  deal  of  credit  was  given  to  American  trainers 
in  England  for  some  of  the  successes  achieved  by 
horses  in  their  hands  and  frequently  this  was  laid  on 
with  too  heavy  a  brush,  and  insufficient  acknowledg- 
ment made  for  what  American  riders  had  done.  I 
was  often  asked  what  I  thought  of  So-and-so — ^among 
trainers — and  others,  but  at  the  time  I  thought  it  as 
well  to  give  evasive  replies.  One  American  trainer 
in  England  I  should  say  didn't  know  a  horse  from  a 
billy-goat  although  he  was  a  good  stableman  !  For 
the  matter  of  that  there  were  many  English  trainers 
who  were  just  as  bad.  Some  of  them  held  "  proud 
positions."  I  could  never  understand  how  they  got 
them ;  in  fact  the  thing  was  often  one  of  the  greatest 
jokes  imaginable. 

It  was  generally  a  case  of  old-fashioned  methods 
being  followed  and  of  a  refusal  to  pay  attention  to 
suggestions.  For  instance  one  trainer,  an  Englishman, 
had  some  American  two-year-olds  and  one  morning 
he  turned  up  with  his  long  rein  and  whip.  I  told  him 
that  they  had  already  been  broken  but  he  shouted  in 
reply  : 

"  They've  got  to  be  broken  over  again  in  the  way 
my  father  broke  them,  and,"  pointing  to  his  son,  "  that 
young  feller  over  there  when  he  grows  up  will  do  exactly 
the  same  as  I  do.  What  is  good  for  one  generation 
will  be  for  another.     Horses  don't  change." 

112 


GEORGE  BLACKWELL'S  ABILITY 

I  used  to  get  so  bewildered  with  this  kind  of  stupidity 
that  I  had  no  words  for  argument  and  in  this  instance 
I  left  it  at  that.  But  the  hopeless  ignorance  in  a 
thousand  ways  of  some  could  not  help  striking  anyone 
with  any  real  experience.  I  am  not  saying  that  I  was 
such  a  superior  judge,  but  looking  back  I  do  know 
quite  well  that  what  I  thought  then  and  think  now  is 
correct. 

I  could  mention  many  trainers  of  the  present  day 
— both  English  and  American — who  are  really  clever 
men.  I  have  always  thought  that  of  Englishmen 
George  Blackwell  was  right  out  by  himself  as  a  trainer. 
We  were  only  just  acquainted  so  the  statement  can 
be  taken  as  being  quite  unprejudiced.  His  horses 
used  to  be  higher  in  flesh  and  brighter  in  coat  after 
real  hard  work — for  he  didn't  spare  them — than  those 
of  anyone  else  I  saw  in  England  at  that  time.  You 
see  a  man  may  get  famous  on  account  of  one  or  two 
great  horses  he  has  turned  out,  but  the  true  cleverness 
consists  in  discovering  horses.  There's  no  reason  why 
there  should  not  be  a  Galtee  More  every  year — ^he 
wants  finding  out  ! 

There  are  some  trainers  who  would  sooner  make 
twenty  pounds  on  the  cross  than  a  hundred  on  the 
level.  I  remember  riding  good  winners  for  one  man, 
who  unfortunately  I  cannot  name  although  he  had 
practically  first  call  on  me,  and  I  could  never  understand 
why  I  didn't  get  a  present.  Owners  used  to  look  at  me 
in  such  a  way  that  gradually  I  got  the  idea  that  they 
were  expecting  me  to  thank  them  for  something. 

At  all  events  that's  how  I  read  it  afterwards. 
But  I  never  got  a  nickel.  I  know  that  trainer  had 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  from  one  man  to  split 
up  with  me.  Yet  they  say  that  it  is  sinful  for  a  jockey 
to  have  a  bet ! 

H  113 


TOD  SLOAN 

John  Dawson  was  a  trainer  who  was  very  nice  to  me 
both  before  and  after  I  won  the  Manchester  November 
Handicap  for  Lord  Ellesmere  on  Proclamation.  I  have 
a  souvenir  Dawson  gave  me  after  I  had  w^on — some 
cuff  buttons.  It  was  rather  curious  how  I  got  that 
mount.  "  Skeets  "  Martin,  who  was  to  have  ridden, 
was  dying  to  get  back  to  London  and  I  was  due  to  ride 
the  favourite  who,  however,  went  wrong  at  almost  the 
last  moment.  The  day  before  the  race  was  run 
"  Skeets,"  hearing  that  I  was  free,  said  to  me,  "You're 
a  lucky  swine.  I  wish  I  could  get  out  of  my 
mount  too :  he's  a  big  outsider ;  the  going'll  be 
fearful." 

"  I'll  ride  him,"  I  said,  "  if  you  get  the  trainer's 
permission."  John  Dawson  was  willing  enough  ;  he 
seemed  surprised  that  I  would  take  it  on.  "  Skeets  " 
was  in  great  glee  that  he  could  go  off  that  night  to 
London.  There  were  twenty-two  in  the  field  and  all 
those  who  remember  that  afternoon  will  know  that 
the  course  was  w^orse  than  usual.  We  went  round  in 
a  procession  with  Proclamation  lying  about  eighth. 
I  was  being  clouted  with  mud  until  my  two  eyes  were 
nearly  bunged  up  and  I  had  to  keep  spitting  it  out  of 
my  mouth,  getting  more  and  more  like  a  nigger  in 
appearance  all  the  time.  I  am  sure  I  was  a  hundred 
and  twenty-five  yards  from  the  leader  at  one  time  but 
I  hung  round  the  rails,  although  I  was  nearly  put  out 
by  a  heavier  clod  than  usual  from  the  horse  in  front 
of  me.  It  isn't  so  much  that  the  mud  cakes  are 
"  catapulted  "  at  one,  but  one  is  going  at  a  great  speed 
and  actually  running  into  what  is  coming  at  one  at 
a  great  pace  too  !  I  held  on  anyhow,  and  managed  to 
bring  up  this  three-year-old  outsider — ^lie  was  carrying 
7-7 — to  win  nicely.  A  lot  of  my  friends  got  33  to 
1,  so  it  was  a  pretty  good  wind-up  to  a  season.     He 

114 


BYRON  MACLELLAN 

started  at  25  to  1  and  of  course  it  was  something  for 
the  pubUc  to  remember  me  by  till  next  year. 

While  on  the  subject  of  trainers  I  should  like  to  say 
that  the  greatest  of  all  who  lived  in  my  time  was  Bjnron 
MacLellan,  now  vmhappily  dead.  He  could  make  a 
good  horse  out  of  a  donkey.  He  did  more  to  found  a 
good  school  of  trainers  than  any  man  known  to  the 
world  during  the  last  fifty  years.  MacLellan  came 
from  a  good  Kentucky  family,  and  for  the  whole  of  his 
life  was  associated  with  horses.  He  got  to  know  their 
disposition,  studying  them  and,  like  some  who  suc- 
ceeded him,  believed  in  building  up  animals  and 
making  allowance  for  different  temperaments.  He 
would,  if  alive,  have  screamed  at  some  of  the  wholesale 
incompetency  of  many  trainers  having  the  charge  of 
horses  to-day.  By  the  way  let  me  say  that  I  am  rather 
nervous  in  laying  down  opinions  so  strongly,  but  I  ask 
myself,  "  What  is  the  good  of  half  saying  a  thing  and 
leaving  the  best  part  of  it  to  guesswork  ?  "  I  am  told 
that  it  is  easy  to  make  a  mistake.  It  is  still  more  easy 
to  print  a  libel  ! 

What  too  would  MacLellan  have  thought  of  what 
you  and  I  know  has  been  done  by  many  English  owners 
and  trainers,  and  almost  been  boasted  about,  with 
horses  which  they  thought  were  useless  or  which  after 
early  trials  as  yearlings  they  thought  were  no  good. 
Often  such  horses  are  taken  out  and  shot  so  that  they 
should  not  lumber  up  the  yard  !  It  is  a  sin,  for  some 
of  them  have  turned  out  most  useful,  and  even  great, 
afterAvards.  I  could  mention  many  instances  where 
horses  showing  nothing  as  yearlings  proved  them- 
selves later  on.  I  am  reminded  of  this  by  what 
my  editor  writes  about  Polar  Star  in  Sharps, 
Flats,  Gamblers  and  Racehorses.  Mr  Hall  Walker's 
horse  was  so  bad  as  a  yearling  that  he  was  not  left  in 

115 


TOD  SLOAN 

the  Derby  and  was  nearly  gelded.  Tlie  great  Colin  in 
America  would  not  have  been  accepted  as  a  present 
when  a  yearling. 

MacLellan  wasn't  like  that  :  he  would  never  give  up 
a  horse  in  his  very  young  days,  neither  would  Wishard. 
I  put  down  Enoch  Wishard  as  one  of  the  best  trainers 
I  have  ever  come  in  close  touch  with.  He  I  believe 
started  life  as  a  blacksmith  in  a  town  called  Wellsville, 
and  from  this  town  also  came  Duke,  who  at  present 
trains  for  Mr  W.  K.  Vanderbilt;  and  John  M'Graw, 
the  manager  of  the  New  York  Baseball  Club. 
Enoch  Wishard  made  a  study  of  horses'  feet  from  early 
days  before  he  took  to  training,  and  he  followed  this 
up  by  always  caring  for  their  mouths.  These  certainly 
are  two  of  the  greatest  essentials  when  considering  a 
horse's  chance  of  progressing  in  training.  Fortunately 
many  trainers  of  the  present  day  have  given  serious 
attention  to  these  matters,  which  one  must  say  were 
far  too  often  neglected  in  the  past.  Wishard  asked 
regularly  about  the  mouths  of  his  charges  and  he  would 
never  leave  the  care  of  their  feet  to  anyone  but  himself. 
Perhaps  more  than  anyone  else  he  has  proved  how  a 
man  can  reach  the  top  of  the  trainer's  calling  owing 
to  observation  and  taking  the  trouble  to  think  about 
the  disposition  of  his  horses. 

Wishard's  by  the  way  is  a  case  that  helps  to  prove 
that  there  is  very  little  heredity  in  training.  Tell  me 
any  great  trainer  whose  son  has  proved  as  great  a  man 
at  the  business  as  his  father  before  him.  Tlie  talent 
is  supposed  to  "  pass  down,"  but  that  is  sheer  nonsense. 
I  do  not  think  there  are  "  born  trainers  "  any  more 
than  there  are  "  born  jockeys."  Some  jockeys  may 
have  taken  up  riding  through  their  fathers  having  been 
at  the  game,  but  it  doesn't  follow  for  a  moment  that 
they  will  achieve  success.     Take  the  list  of  all  you  can 

ii6 


HOW  HORSES  WERE  SHOD 

ever  remember :  there  are  a  few  exceptions  on  the  other 
side  but  the  vast  majority  goes  to  support  what  I 
have  said. 

There  is  a  good  trainer  in  France,  Eugene  Leigh. 
I  am  quite  sure  his  father  never  saw  a  horse,  and  yet 
what  the  son  doesn't  know  about  them  is  scarcely 
worth  learning.  One  thing  is  pretty  certain,  that  if 
the  modern  school  of  training  had  not  been  introduced 
by  W^ishard  and  a  few  of  his  contemporaries  racing 
would  have  remained  where  it  was,  and  would  have 
been  left  to  a  few  gamblers  to  control ! 

When  I  first  visited  France  I  couldn't  help  noticing 
how  little  horses  were  understood  by  some  trainers. 
In  fact  I  was  astounded.  Purely  from  lack  of  care 
were  animals  suffering  from  thrush  and  the  foot 
disease.  The  treatment  was  little  luiderstood.  Then 
again  hardly  anything  was  known  of  a  horse's  mouth. 
Tliey  had  then  no  implements  for  the  floating  and 
decaping  of  horses'  teeth,  and  it  was  only  after  some 
persuasion  I  got  them  to  procure  these  appliances. 
Since  then  Joe  Marsh  has  done  a  great  deal  in  the  way 
of  looking  after  horses'  mouths.  He  is  a  witch  doctor 
with  teeth. 

Tlie  shoes  too  worn  by  horses  at  that  time  weighed 
from  1  lb.  to  Ij  lbs.  on  each  foot.  Blacksmiths  did 
not  even  know  how  to  trim  properly  the  foot  of  a 
race-horse,  and  when  I  got  hot  about  it  and  recom- 
mended the  adoption  of  the  American  system  the 
Frenchmen  thought  it  would  be  too  big  a  change  from 
what  had  alwaj^s  been  the  rule  on  the  French  turf. 
France  owes  a  great  deal  to  American  trainers.  For- 
tunately it  can  be  said  that  many  Anglo-Frenchmen 
have  had  the  sense  to  alter  their  methods. 

The  extraordinary  changes  brought  in  by  Americans 
caused  the  charge  of  doping  being  levelled  against  them. 

117 


TOD  SLOAN 

One  of  the  best  horses  I  have  seen  in  France,  and  one 
in  which  the  greatest  change  was  effected,  was  Mauve- 
zin,  now  at  Lord  Carnarvon's  stud.  I  bought  him  out 
of  a  selhng  race  for  eleven  thousand  francs  in  1901. 
When  he  came  to  me  he  could  not  stay  more  than  four 
and  a  half  furlongs.  In  little  over  a  month  he  gained 
nearly  a  htmdred  lbs.  in  weight.  Of  course  it  will  be 
remembered  that  aftei*wards  he  won  with  big  weights 
in  France,  took  the  Stewards'  Cup  at  Goodwood,  and 
proved  a  success  at  the  stud. 

Americans  taught  England  a  great  deal  about 
horses'  feet  too. 


ii8 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ENGLAND    AND    AMERICA 

Some   American   Trainers  —  Breaking   my   "Drum"  —  Rushing   "on   the 

Road"— Talk  "English" 

In  talking  about  English  trainers  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
charged  with  belittling  some  really  good  men.  Many 
trainers  have  had  such  extraordinary  opportunities. 
I  believe  a  man  like  Harry  Batho  who  trains  at  Alf riston 
in  Sussex  might  have  been  one  of  the  most  successful 
of  the  English  school  had  he  been  given  the  same 
opportunities  as  the  heads  of  what  are  known  as 
"  aristocratic  stables."  Batho  gets  to  know  a  horse, 
and  is  clever  in  placing  them  too. 

Mr  George  Lambton  proved  what  he  could  do  when 
he  had  something  good  to  deal  with — and  I  really 
mean  this,  for  I  have  taken  a  good  deal  of  notice  of 
what  he  has  done  in  this  respect.  He  will  ask  ques- 
tions and,  with  Wootton  perhaps,  has  been  the  most 
progressive  in  recent  years.  Despite  vast  experience 
he  will  listen  to  sound  advice. 

Some  men  in  England  would  never  take  any  tip  at 
all.  For  instance  when  I  had  that  terrible  fall  on 
Maluma  in  the  Liverpool  Cup  which  has  been  referred 
to  in  a  previous  chapter,  Robinson  would  run  her 
without  plates.  It  was  a  terrible  day,  but  he  said  she 
had  been  used  to  nmning  without  shoes  in  Australia 
and  he  supposed  she  would  do  her  best  without  them 
over  here.  The  inevitable  happened.  As  she  was 
barefooted  I  knew  I  was  gone.     It  occurred  round  the 

119 


TOD  SLOAN 

turn  :    she   slipped   sideways.     I  always  think  with 
plates  on  that  day  she  couldn't  have  lost. 

Charles  Morton  would  favour  me  by  asking  me 
questions  from  time  to  time.  If  he  didn't  agree  with 
all  my  replies  (and  I  didn't  expect  him  to)  still  with 
my  experience  and  natural  "  horse  sense  "  he  often 
found  some  pointer  or  other  worth  taking.  Morton 
is  a  man  of  ripe  judgment. 

The  strokes  that  some  trainers  put  across  a  jockey 
are  wicked  sometimes.  I  remember  riding  an  animal 
in  one  of  the  big  back-end  handicaps.  Before  we 
were  off  I  knew  I  was  on  a  dead  'un.  It  was  a  bit 
maddening,  and  it  was  natural  to  feel  furious  on 
returning  to  the  paddock. 

The  trainer  said  to  me,  "  She'll  run  better  in  a  fort- 
night," and  gave  me  a  look  of  intelligence. 

"  Not  with  me  on,"  I  replied.  "  I'm  not  going  to 
ride  her." 

He  threatened  to  take  me  before  the  stewards  but 
— not  a  bit  of  it. 

The  same  man  sent  me  in  a  bill  for  £375  for  bets, 
a  lot  of  it  on  the  dead  'un  I  have  just  referred  to,  and 
pressed  me  to  pay  him. 

"All  right,"  I  wrote ;  "I'm  going  to  Weatherby's, 
who  keep  all  my  accounts,  and  I'll  get  them  to  transfer 
£375  for  bets  over  to  you,  I  suppose  they'll  ask  me 
what  it's  for."  He  had  got  me  altogether  for  £1400 
and  he  wrote  to  me,  "  For  God's  sake,  don't  say  any- 
thing at  all  about  going  to  Weatherby's."  That  was 
good  enough  for  me,  and  there  was  never  any  reason  to 
give  that  claimed  money  another  thought,  for  he  had 
put  it  across  me. 

Of  the  modern  trainers  the  American  Sam  Hildreth, 
who  was  over  in  France  for  a  time  and  went  back 
when  Mr  Kohler  died,  has  been  a  trainer  of  the  highest 

120 


SOME  AMERICAN  TRAINERS 

merit,  and  I  put  him  next  to  Wishard  as  Wishard  was 
in  1900.  Then  too  Eugene  Leigh  and  Tom  Welch,  both 
now  training  in  France,  and  Tom  Healy  in  America, 
I  rank  high.  In  France  Michel  Pantall  is  a  really 
clever  man  and  has  struck  me  as  one  conforming  more 
to  the  best  accepted  American  methods.  Wallace 
Davis,  who  trains  for  Monsieur  Picard,  was,  I  think,  as 
good  a  trainer  as  any  I  have  met. 

As  I  have  to  write  a  book  I  feel  it  is  necessary  to  give 
these  personal  opinions,  but  I'd  like  to  say  again  that 
I  put  them  down  for  what  they  are  worth.  They 
may  be  valuable  notes  for  those  who  read  years  ahead 
some  of  the  Turf  history  of  my  time. 

One  of  the  greatest  trainers  was  James  Rowe.  He 
was  in  a  class  all  by  himself  in  the  older  school,  and 
he  adapted  himself  readily  to  the  new  conditions.  He 
had  been  one  of  America's  crack  jockeys  before 
beginning  training. 

James  Rowe  after  he  first  retired  from  training 
became  a  starter  and  was  much  respected  for  his 
ability.  Subsequently  he  trained  again — for  Mr  James 
R.  Keene.  It  is  interesting  to  recall  one  of  my  first 
experiences  with  Mr  Rowe.  It  was  about  the  year 
1892  or  1893  when  I  had  come  to  New  York  with  very 
little  confidence  in  my  self  and  hardly  any  prospects. 
There  was  a  big  race  at  Sheepshead  Bay,  and  the 
leading  trainer  at  that  time,  Rogers,  told  me  that  I 
could  have  the  mount  on  his  mare  Lucania.  I  thought 
he  was  trying  to  give  me  a  chance  and  took  it  as  a 
great  compliment,  but  I  found  out  later  that  the  truth 
was  there  was  no  one  else  available  at  my  weight. 
We  got  down  to  the  post  and  after  one  false  break- 
away I  found  that  my  girths  were  loose  and  begged 
permission  to  tighten  them.  "  My  saddle  has  slipped, 
Mr  Rowe,  can  I  fix  it  ?"  I  said. 

121 


TOD  SLOAN 

Mr  Rowe  answered,  "  I'll  fix  you,  you  just  get  into 
line  ;   don't  you  come  that  Western  stuff  on  me." 

Of  course  it  was  the  old  flag  starting  in  those  days. 
Well,  he  tried  to  get  us  away,  but  there  was  another 
false  break.  This  time  I  was  determined  to  try  and 
tighten  up,  so  getting  back  to  the  post  before  the  others 
I  turned  Lucania's  head  the  reverse  way  of  the  course 
and  lifting  up  my  right  leg  got  at  the  flap  to  tighten  it. 
Rowe  seeing  me  do  this,  jumped  down  off  his  starting 
platform  and  seized  a  whip  with  a  long  lash  and  coming 
at  the  back  of  me  let  out.  It  caught  me  from  one  leg 
across  the  back  to  the  other  making  a  great  weal  like 
a  horseshoe.  He  was  so  sore  with  me  I  could  see  and 
— I  was  sore  too. 

When  I  got  back  after  finishing  second  or  third — 
I  am  sure  I  should  have  won  if  the  saddle  had  been 
all  right — I  got  hold  of  a  lawyer  and  we  laid  an 
information  that  evening  to  the  police  at  Sheepshead 
Bay.  I  showed  the  police  the  welt  on  my  body  which 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  made  with  a  half-inch  rope. 

Well,  we  began  a  lawsuit  against  Rowe  and,  despite 
all  sorts  of  people  coming  to  me  with  offers  to  pay 
a  thousand  or  two  thousand  dollars  instead  of  the 
ten  thousand  I  was  claiming,  I  wouldn't  hush  it  up, 
for  I  stuck  to  my  guns  that  he  had  no  right  to 
hit  me. 

The  action  was  still  pending  in  the  courts  when, 
going  into  the  Casino  Theatre  in  New  York  one 
evening,  who  should  walk  in  at  the  same  moment  but 
Jimmy  Rowe  and  his  wife.  They  came  across  to  me, 
Rowe  saying,  "  Hullo,  Tod,"  and  holding  out  his  hand. 
I  took  it  and  we  all  three  chatted  for  a  minute,  no- 
thing about  the  trouble  though.  I  wouldn't  sell  that 
case  but  after  that  I  dropped  it  on  my  own  accord 
straight  away.     Truly  I  can  say  that  no  money  would 

122 


BREAKING  MY  DRUM 

have  squared  it.  Mr  Rowe  and  I  were  splendid 
friends  afterwards  and  when  he  trained  for  Mr  Keene 
I  could  always  be  his  first  jockey  when  I  was  free  and 
we  had  many  successes  together. 

Mr  Rowe  was  kindness  itself  to  me,  especially  when 
I  had  rather  a  nasty  accident  and  split  the  drum  of 
my  ear.  One  day  he  asked  :  "  Would  you  like  to 
ride  Elkins  ?  I  hardly  like  to  ask  you  as  he  is  not  a 
very  pleasant  horse  ;  he  can  run,  but  you'll  have  to 
be  careful  of  him  :  he  is  up  to  all  sorts  of  tricks." 

"  That  don't  matter,"  I  replied  and  they  threw  me 
into  the  saddle.  I  was  no  sooner  there  than  Elkins 
jerked  up  his  head,  almost  knocking  me  out  and 
altogether  knocking  me  off  the  saddle.  After  which 
he  cleared  the  ground  round  him.  Rowe  wanted  to 
retire  him,  but  I  was  round  in  a  minute  although  in 
great  pain  and  I  wouldn't  hear  of  the  horse  not  running, 
and  again  they  threw  me  into  the  saddle.  All  went 
smoothly  and  I  won  by  seventy  or  eighty  yards.  I 
was  in  the  hospital  for  some  days  after  that  :  it  took 
a  long  time  to  dull  the  pain  and  make  me  sufficiently 
fit  to  have  an  operation. 

I  wound  up  the  season  of  1898  having  ridden  in 
three  months  forty-three  winners.  It  was  satisfactory 
enough,  and  it  was  with  a  nice  sum  tucked  away — 
about  ten  thousand  pounds — that  I  returned  soon  after 
to  New  York,  where  the  newspapers  had  a  good  deal 
more  to  say  about  what  I  had  done. 

I  felt  rather  odd  on  leaving  England  for  America 
once  more.  Many  a  time  when  I  smoked  a  cigar  on 
the  promenade  deck  in  the  morning,  before  the  boys 
were  about,  I  would  look  forward  to  meeting  many 
of  the  old  lot,  whom  I  understood  better  and  who, 
perhaps,  knew  me  better  than  many  of  my  new  English 
friends,  but  I  had  it  in  my  mind  in  that  end  of  1898 

123 


TOD  SLOAN 

and  beginning  of  1899  that  I  would  sooner  have  been  in 
London  fighting  over  certain  races  which  I  had  won 
and  lost,  than  be  in  New  York.  I  had  to  answer  so 
many  questions  !  Some  of  them  sounding  so  curious. 
People  who  did  not  know  England  a  bit,  nor  the 
conditions  of  English  racing,  were  very  odd.  The 
majority  of  the  queries  put  to  me  were  as  to  how  this, 
that  and  the  other  backer  had  got  on,  what  they  had 
won  and  how  far  they  had  taken  the  knock  "  playing 
the  races."  The  more  delicate  and  interesting  phases 
of  the  racing  game  were  not  inquired  into.  Certainly 
old  friends  among  trainers  used  to  ask  me  what  they 
did  in  England  under  certain  conditions  but,  I  am 
afraid  that  generally  I  did  not  tell  them  exactly  what 
they  wanted  to  know,  for  I  was  determined  not  to 
criticise  English  methods — then. 

Certainly  it  seemed  strange  to  be  back  in  New  York. 
I  suppose  I  was  getting  a  bit  Europeanised  or  some- 
thing. I  know  I  could  not  quite  take  the  interest  in 
some  of  the  matters  which  I  used  to  think  were  the 
beginning  and  end  of  everything. 

It  was  curious  to  compare  New  York  with  London. 
I  had  heard  that  many  Americans,  and  Australians 
too,  had  come  to  England  and  had  drawn  contrasts 
between  everything  which  they  had  seen  in  London 
and  which  at  first  they  didn't  like  and  what  they  were 
used  to  at  home.  I  confess  that  had  been  a  little  of 
my  own  idea  when  I  went  back  after  the  1897  season. 
An  American  may  long  to  return  if  he  has  accom- 
plished something ;  if  he  has  not  he  is  likely  to  have 
only  one  idea  :  to  go  home  and  bury  himself.  But 
when  I  returned  at  the  end  of  1898  things  began  to 
seem  a  bit  different ;  it  was  the  life  around  town  which 
bothered  me.  In  some  ways  it  seemed  so  much 
brighter  in  New  York  but  at  times  I  seemed  drawn 

124 


RUSHING  ON  THE  ROAD 

towards  what  I  had  just  left.  I  had  more  chances  of 
social  life  in  London  ;  there  seemed  a  sort  of  domestic 
touch  even  about  a  rubber  of  bridge  in  a  private  room 
at  an  hotel.  I  used  to  be  asked  out  a  good  deal ;  it 
gave  quite  a  change  to  the  daily  life.  Of  course  I  had 
a  lot  of  old  friends  in  New  York  who  would  offer  me 
the  same  hospitality,  but  it  was  what  I  had  just 
become  accustomed  to  which  I  hankered  after. 

Then  again,  the  theatres  didn't  seem  quite  so  com- 
fortable. Going  out  to  the  play  in  London  was  more 
like  going  to  a  party.  Everyone  looked  so  well  turned 
out  and  I  used  to  enjoy  the  intervals  between  the  acts 
when  we  could  talk  over  different  things,  and  I  had 
time  to  smoke  quite  a  quarter  of  a  cigar  in  the  lobby. 
The  plays  were  better,  or  appealed  to  me  more,  in 
New  York,  but  the  whole  surroundings  of  the  theatre 
were  more  attractive  in  the  London  I  had  just  left. 

On  the  other  hand  there  were  many  things  in 
England  that  I  could  have  done  without,  as  I  discovered 
when  I  got  back.  Rushing  about  all  over  the  country 
for  instance  for  three  days  or  two  days  here,  and 
another  day  or  two  there.  It  seemed  to  be  like  being 
"  on  the  road  "  in  a  one-night-stand  company.  All 
American  trainers  who  have  settled  in  England  have 
disliked  this.  It  is  so  different  from  America  where 
one  races  two  or  three  weeks  at  one  place  and  then 
moves  on  to  another.  At  Saratoga  for  instance  they 
raced  continuously  for  nearly  three  weeks,  and  in  the 
good  times  many  horses  were  trained  with  the  others 
of  the  string  which  perhaps  were  not  intended  to  be 
run  at  that  meeting  at  all. 

Other  Americans'  experiences  have  been  very  similar 
to  mine — the  longing  to  rush  back  "  home,"  a  mild 
desire  to  come  to  Europe  again  and  then  a  great 
regret  to  leave  England  or  France,  and  then,  eventu- 

125 


TOD  SLOAN 

ally,  the  feeling  that  after  all  Europe  was  the  only 
place  to  live  in.  One  American  jockey,  Danny  Maher, 
has  even  become  a  naturalised  Englishman,  and  many 
other  Americans  might  do  the  same,  but  they  are 
slack  and  won't  take  the  trouble  about  the  papers. 
However,  personally  I  always  had  the  feeling  that  if 
I  lived  and  died  in  Europe — ^as  I  suppose  I  shall — 
nothing  would  make  me  change  my  citizenship  of  the 
United  States,  although  I  suppose  I  have  just  as  many 
friends  and  acquaintances  British  as  American,  and 
throughout  my  career  I  have  had  as  many  kindnesses 
from  one  nation  as  from  the  other. 

Belgians  and  Frenchmen,  too,  were  also  very  friendly 
to  me  as  far  as  I  could  judge  ;  and  I  think  I  know 
now  (although  of  course  at  first  it  was  very  difficult 
for  me  to  form  an  estimate  not  knowing  a  word  of  the 
language,  and  not  attempting  the  sort  of  pigeon  English 
that  some  do).  I  suppose  I  have  a  certain  knowledge 
of  French  to-day.  Talking  of  pigeon  English  I  think 
"  Boots  "  Durnell,  who  I  brought  over  to  France  and 
who  is  now  training  for  the  King  of  Roumania,  was 
about  the  funniest  guy  I  ever  saw  or  heard  when  he 
first  attempted  to  make  himself  understood  in  France. 
From  the  very  moment  he  arrived  at  Boulogne  he 
began  to  imitate  what  he  thought  French  people 
spoke  ;  and  after  about  a  week  he  had  got  together 
certain  sentences  and  a  way  of  gesticulating  which 
was  all  his  own.  It  was  in  an  attempt  to  speak  to 
Charron  first  that  he  came  out  in  his  glory. 

This  is  a  specimen :  "  You  see,  Monsieur,  zat  ze  leg 
of  ze  horse  vich  is  swawlen  and  vot  I  do  wis  him  zis 
after  midi  is  to  take  ze  ombrohcarshon  in  mon  hands 
and  zen  I  rube  'im  until  he  gets  veil." 

When  he  got  one  or  two  more  French  words  in  his 
head  he  would  shrug  his  shoulders  every  other  moment, 

126 


TALK  ENGLISH 

hold  his  hands  up,  cast  his  eyes  down,  shake  hands 
with  his  left  hand  and  always  pretend  that  he  couldn't 
speak  English — and  certainly  he  was  getting  out  of  it. 
One  day  Baron  Leonino  came  to  the  stable  and 
"  Boots  "  started  on  him.  I  saw  the  Baron's  face 
begin  to  broaden  into  a  smile  when  "  Boots  "  said, 
"  Ze  gallop  your  cheval  has  done  zis  matin  is  ze 
fastest  by  ze  watch  we  'ave  'ad  for  quelques  jours. 
'E  'as  eat  up  and  'e  is  as  fit  as  a  violin."  Then  Baron 
Leonino  said,  "  Now  suppose  you  tell  me  all  this  in 
English,"  and  I  chipped  in,  "  Why  the  something,  some- 
thing, don't  you  tell  the  gentleman  exactly  what  has 
happened  ? " 

He  got  some  of  the  stable  hands  into  the  way  of 
talking  too,  and  when  the  shopkeepers  and  Frenchmen 
who  supplied  us  with  things  couldn't  understand  them 
*' Boots"  said 'they  were  fools  who  didn't  understand 
their  own  language. 


127 


CHAPTER  XVII 

KNIGHT    OF    THE   THISTLE 

The  "  Lincolnshire  "—Good  Horse's  Bad  Moments— At  Home  in  England 

The  winter  of  1898-1899   brought   about   the  usual 
incidents  :  visits  here  and  there  in  America ;  meetings 
with  many  old  friends  and  the  introduction  to  new 
ones,  especially  those  connected  with  the  prize  ring 
and  the  world  of  sport,  some  of  whom  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  refer  to  in  later  chapters.     I  had  always 
of  course  to  bear  in  mind  that  I  was  due  back  to  ride 
for  Lord  William  in  the  early  spring.     In  fact  I  heard 
at  the  end  of  January  that  I  was  required  to  ride  Knight 
of  the  Thistle  in  the  Lincolnshire  Handicap.     This 
horse  was  trained  by  Huggins,  who  had  bought  him 
for  an  American  sportsman  named  L.  O.  Appleby. 
Two  years  before,  when  a  four-year-old,  he  had  won 
the  Royal  Hunt  Cup  carrying  7-5  and  had  figured 
prominently  in  other  races.     I  knew  little  or  nothing 
about  him  but  was  told  by  letter  that  I  had  a  real  good 
chance  of  winning  the   first  important   race   of  the 
season.     They  sent  me  cuttings  from  English  news- 
papers— the    handicap,    and    what    certain    English 
sporting  writers  thought  about  the  prospects  of  the 
race. 

I  had  heard  of  Knight  of  the  Thistle,  for  of  course 
there  was  always  the  usual  "  horse  talk "  every 
evening  and  during  the  day — but,  by  the  way,  we  would 
frequently,  my  friends  and  I,  break  away  entirely 
from  turf  topics  and  switch  on  to  other  things,  especi- 

128 


THE  LINCOLNSHIRE 

ally  fights,  the  theatres,  and — well,  something  not 
four-legged.  I  kept  receiving  letters  in  the  early 
part  of  March  reminding  me  exactly  when  the  Lincoln- 
shire Handicap  was.  Some  of  them  I  didn't  even 
reply  to,  but  I  did  send  cables  to  Lord  William  and  to 
Huggins  to  say  that  I  was  sailing  on  a  certain  date. 
I  had  timed  it  to  a  nicety,  reckoning  that  I  could 
arrive  at  Southampton  and  that  I  could  get  to  Lincoln 
for  the  big  race.  There  was  no  trouble  in  crossing,  but 
I  imagine  they  were  rather  upset  when  I  didn't  turn 
up  on  the  opening  day  of  the  season.  I  was  there  in 
good  time  on  the  Tuesday. 

They  told  me  exactly  what  my  9  to  1  chance  was 
likely  to  do.  There  would  be  a  big  field — in  fact 
twenty  ran,  a  larger  muster  than  there  had  been  for  a 
few  years  previously.  I  hadn't  been  on  Knight  of  the 
Thistle,  as  I  have  explained,  but  I  admired  the  horse 
when  I  saw  him  and  I  liked  him  still  better  when  he 
swung  down  to  the  post  with  me.  But  at  the  post 
I  found  out  what  a  devil  he  was  at  the  start.  He  was 
a  very  actor  before  he  began  his  business,  in  fact  a 
mean  sort  of  horse,  and  I  had  any  amount  of  trouble 
with  him. 

Lord  William  had  said  to  me  before  the  race  :  "  Are 
you  fit  ?  " 

I  answered,  "  Yes." 

"  Have  you  been  doing  any  riding  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  hansom  cabs,"  and  I  added  that  I  didn't 
intend  to  change  my  methods  for  I  always  did  well 
when  starting  off  a  season. 

"  W^ell,  there  you  are  ;  if  you  think  you  are  all  right 
I  suppose  you  ar^." 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  "  The  Knight  "  fiddled 
me  about  at  the  post,  where  we  were  for  some  time 
with  the  wind  blowing  colder  even  than  I  had  experi- 
I  129 


TOD  SLOAN 

enced  it  in  America.  Ultimately  he  got  going  with 
me  and  at  one  time  I  thought  I  might  have  a  chance 
of  winning,  but  General  Peace,  a  real  nice  horse  who 
was  receiving  13  lb. — a  big  difference  considering  the 
class — beat  me.  Of  course  I  was  disappointed,  and 
although  Lord  William  didn't  say  so  at  the  time  I  am 
quite  certain  that  he  was  of  the  opinion,  then  and 
afterwards  too,  that  had  I  been  over  and  riding 
gallops  and  become  a  little  more  acclimatised,  I  should 
have  won  it.  Charlie  Mills,  who  had  done  the  greater 
part  of  the  commission,  was  of  the  same  opinion,  and 
didn't  hesitate  to  say  so  to  others,  but  I  state  with 
perfect  confidence  that  there  was  nothing  lost  in 
fitness  and  jockeyship  that  day.  If  there  had  been 
it  might  as  well  go  down  here  at  once.  What  made 
them  firmer  in  their  convictions  was  that  after  that 
day  at  Lincoln  I  had  caught  such  a  chill  right  across 
my  kidneys  and  back  that  I  hesitated  about  riding  at 
Liverpool  at  the  end  of  the  week  ;  in  fact  I  was  knocked 
right  out.  But  I  went  on  to  Liverpool  all  the  same, 
intending  to  ride  but  feeling  like  nothing  on  earth. 
Much  against  my  rule  I  had  to  take  a  glass  of  brandy 
at  Lincoln  before  my  dinner  and  determined  to  see 
what  a  rest  for  a  day  would  do.  But  it  was  no  good 
and  I  had  to  stay  in  bed  in  my  apartment  and  think 
all  the  time  what  I  might  have  done  had  I  been 
riding.  It  was  the  weather  which  had  crocked  me  up 
and  nothing  else,  for  I  had  felt  quite  fit  when  crossing 
the  ocean  and  also  entirely  myself  when  getting  in  the 
saddle  for  that  race.  Next  day  I  went  to  Liverpool  but 
there  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  shiver  and  sweat 
while  somebody  brought  me  in  the  results  of  the  races 
and  came  in  the  evening  and  discussed  what  had 
occurred.  Of  course  it  made  me  feel  as  if  I  could  get 
out  of  bed  and  take  my  chance  the  next  day,  but  it  was 

130 


GOOD  HORSE'S  BAD  MOMENTS 

lucky  for  me — so  the  doctor  told  me — that  I  did  keep 
quiet  until  I  was  able  to  go  back  to  London  on  the 
Sunday  and  creep  between  the  blankets  at  the  Cecil 
for  another  day  or  two.  When  I  was  about  and  was 
riding  as  usual  of  course  I  heard  all  the  talk  over 
again  about  what  I  should  have  done  if  I  had  been 
fit — and  so  on  and  so  on. 

It  appears  that  Huggins  had  bought  Knight  of  the 
Thistle  for  Appleby  as  a  type  of  an  old-fashioned 
high-class  English  race-horse.  It  was  Huggins'  own 
judgment,  and  in  this  instance  he  was  absolutely 
correct,  for  on  his  day  this  animal  was  one  of  the  best 
I  ever  rode.  He  behaved  badly  at  the  post  but  he 
was  as  game  as  he  could  be.  On  his  day  of  days  he 
could  have  beaten  anything,  classic  or  otherwise,  and 
such  he  proved  when  I  won  the  Jubilee  on  him  some 
weeks  later  from  Greenan  and  Lord  Edward  II., 
who  had  finished  behind  him  in  the  Lincolnshire.  Mr 
Arthur  Coventry  had  all  sorts  of  trouble  with  him 
at  the  post.  Even  on  that  day  he  had  certain  peculi- 
arities, for  he  was  getting  a  bit  "  stalliony  " — I  will 
not  say  savage. 

Both  he  and  Santoi,  who  will  be  mentioned  later, 
had  their  very  bad  moments  and  it  was  always  the 
most  interesting  part  of  my  work  to  try  and  find  out 
what  was  really  the  matter  with  them.  No  one  ever 
seems  to  have  gauged  the  exact  disposition  of  a  horse, 
but  I  never  ceased  trying  to  "  know  "  animals  which 
had  bad  characters.  They  are  really  blamed  some- 
times for  "  cussedness  "  when  it  is  not  altogether  their 
own  fault.  It  may  be  stomach  trouble,  their  teeth, 
or  their  feet.  From  the  many  thousands  of  horses  I 
have  ridden,  my  own  personal  impression  is  that  there 
is  no  trouble  without  a  cause.  I  sometimes  begin  to 
think  that  the  real  cause  may  be  too  much  in-breeding, 

131 


TOD  SLOAN 

bringing  about  an  extraordinary  temperament,  just 
as  in  human  beings  lunacy  can  be  the  result  of 
marriages  in  the  same  family.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
no  one  will  ever  make  me  think  differently.  I  don't 
know  whether  a  greater  study  of  the  thoroughbred 
will  ever  exactly  enable  men  to  know  horses  and  get 
such  remedies  for  various  troubles  as  to  make  a 
perfectly  tractable  animal,  but  it  is  to  be  done  ;  I 
am  convinced  of  it. 

After  the  start  for  that  Jubilee  I  never  had  the 
slightest  doubt  about  the  result  and  for  weeks  after,  in 
fact  months  after,  I  can  remember  discussing  the 
horse  which  Huggins  had  been  fortunate  enough  to 
acquire,  and  which  America  was  lucky  enough  to  have 
afterwards  as  a  sire  horse.  If  someone  had  only  got 
exactly  to  know  what  was  the  matter  with  Knight  of 
the  Thistle  I  am  sure  that  he  could  have  carried  any 
weights  and  beaten  the  very  best  in  training.  Many 
who  read  this  will  remember  all  about  him,  and  those 
who  were  connected  with  his  early  training  may  have 
something  more  to  say  than  I  have.  In  the  Hunt 
Cup  later  (in  1899)  he  carried  9-2  and  I  finished  third 
on  him  behind  the  mighty  Eager,  and  a  three-year-old, 
Refractor,  who  was  only  putting  up  6-3.  By  the  way 
there  was  a  Scottish  firm  who  after  the  Jubilee  started 
a  new  brand  of  whisky  called  the  Ivnight  of  the 
Thistle  Blend  and  sent  me  a  big  quantity  of  it,  some 
of  which  I  gave  away  and  the  rest — well,  I  drank  it 
myself. 

I  am  not  going  into  all  the  races  which  I  rode  in 
between  the  Lincolnshire  and  the  Jubilee  and  then 
on  to  the  big  events  at  Epsom  and  Ascot,  but  I  shall 
dip  into  my  memory  where  something  of  more  im- 
portance than  usual  suggests  itself.  I  was  doing  as 
well  as  in  the  two  previous  autumns ;    I  had  made 

132 


'*=*-# 


Beaten  on  Caiman  by  Flying  Fox 

Nevjniarket  First  S/>ring  Meeting,  iSqq 


Winning  the  Jriiii.EE  on  Knight  of  the  Thistle 

Kempt  on  Park,  iSgg 


AT  HOME  IN  ENGLAND 

plenty  of  new  friends  and  was  learning  more  of 
England  ;  in  fact  I  was  getting  thoroughly  at  home 
in  the  country  I  knew  so  well  afterwards,  and  on  the 
continent  in  which  I  was  to  eventually  make  my 
home.  There  was  of  course  any  number  of  Americans 
over  to  follow  me  and  others,  and  I  could  not  blame 
them  if  occasionally  they  were  a  little  bit  too  patriotic, 
for  the  luck  of  the  American  riders  seemed  to  be  in 
the  ascendant.  I  had  plenty  of  invitations  to  ride, 
and  of  course  my  friends  helped  me  considerably  in 
getting  me  mounts.  Time  and  again  I  would  not 
know  what  I  was  to  be  up  on  during  the  following 
week  but  at  the  end  I  always  found  I  had  added  many 
notches  to  my  score,  and  as  the  figures  got  better  and 
better  so  was  extra  confidence  given  to  me  and  to 
those  who  employed  me.  As  the  sun  got  warmer  too, 
I  began  to  feel  that  fitness  which  the  trying  wind  of 
the  spring  had  dried  up. 


133 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HOLOCAUST 

Engaged  for  Holocaust— Flying  Fox  delays  Start— WTiat  Charles  Hawtrey 

missed 

Of  course  up  to  this  time  I  had  never  had  a  chance 
either  of  riding  in  the  Derby,  or  of  seeing  it,  for 
previously  no  summer  had  been  spent  in  England. 
The  circumstances  which  led  up  to  my  getting  the 
mount  on  Holocaust  are,  briefly,  that  my  friend 
Charles  Hawtrey  and  Miss  Fanny  Ward  had  been  over 
in  France  and  had  seen  Holocaust  run  in  I  think  the 
French  Derby.  My  name  had  been  mentioned  by 
one  or  the  other  or  both  to  M.  de  Bremond  who  owned 
the  grey.  He  was  interested  and  although  it  was 
stated  tliat  Watkins,  a  French  jockey,  was  to  ride  him, 
I  was  told  that  I  might  get  the  mount,  and  that  M. 
de  Bremond,  who  was  staying  at  the  Savoy,  would  see 
me  if  I  went  there.  I  only  heard  this  in  the  evening 
when  I  was  sitting  down  to  dinner.  Hurrying  over 
this  meal  I  went  from  the  Cecil  next  door  to  the 
Savoy  and  asked  for  the  French  owner. 

I  was  shown  into  the  entrance  to  the  restaurant  and 
M.  de  Bremond  came  out  to  meet  me.  He  looked  at 
me  as  I  stood  before  him  in  tail  coat,  white  waistcoat 
and  tie  and  a  silk  hat  and  then  he  glanced  over  my 
head  as  if  looking  for  someone,  saying  : 

"  Where  is  Sloan  ?     Bring  him  in  here  !  " 

"  /  am  Sloan,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  are  you  ?  I  hear  you'd  like  to  ride  my  horse 
to-morrow." 

134 


ENGAGED  FOR  HOLOCAUST 

The  only  reply  I  could  think  of  was  :  "  Yes,  I'll 
ride  him  all  right,  if  you  like." 

He  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  Well  you  can,  that's  arranged,  eh  ?  You've 
never  seen  him  ;  that  doesn't  matter,  for  I  hear  there 
are  many  winners  you  have  ridden  which  you  have 
never  seen.  He's  a  nice  sort  of  horse  ;  whether  he 
can  win  or  not  I  don't  know.  There's  Flying  Fox  of 
course,  and  that's  enough  without  mentioning  the 
others  in  the  race." 

I  listened  attentively  and  when  he  mentioned  Flying 
Fox  I  was  quite  of  his  opinion  that  the  big  colt  was 
enough  to  think  of  without  worrying  about  the  rest 
of  them.  M.  de  Bremond  stopped  a  little  while 
talking  to  me,  both  of  us  standing  up,  and  added  : 
"  Well  I'll  see  you  at  Epsom  to-morrow." 

The  news  got  about  through  one  and  the  other 
that  night  but  there  was  not  much  business  done 
since  everyone  was  Flying  Fox  mad.  In  fact  there 
were  thousands  of  pounds  laid  on  him  that  evening 
at  2  to  1  and  9  to  4  on — he  started  at  5  to  2  on.  In  a 
previous  chapter  I  have  mentioned  what  a  great  horse 
the  favourite  was  and  even  though  I  had  confidence 
that  my  recently  found  mount  would  do  well  from 
what  I  had  heard  of  him,  still  I  couldn't  pretend  that 
I  had  any  serious  idea  on  that  previous  evening  that 
I  could  win.  All  the  same  it  was  nice  to  have  a  ride 
with  any  kind  of  chance  in  a  race  I  had  heard  and 
read  so  much  about.  In  America  even  those  who  do 
not  follow  English  racing  results  will  always  read 
anything  about  the  Derby,  the  greatest  race  in  the 
world.  I  know  that  7  did,  and  I  often  found  others 
doing  so.  American  owners  and  breeders  too  always 
had  the  ambition  to  have  an  entry  in  the  English 
Derby,  and  the  prospects  would  be  discussed  a  long 

135 


TOD  SLOAN 

time  in  advance.  Some  of  the  American  papers  would 
come  out  with  big  stories  about  the  history  of  the  race, 
and  all  that  sort  of  stuff.  I  used  to  devour  them 
when  in  a  racing  stable  in  early  days  with  just  as  much 
keenness  as  I  would  read  about  Sullivan,  Jackson  and 
all  the  big  fellows  in  the  prize-ring.  Therefore,  when 
I  met  my  friends  that  night  it  was  with  some  pride 
that  I  stated  I  was  to  ride  the  grey  Frenchman  in  the 
Derby. 

I  went  to  bed  with  the  same  sort  of  feeling,  not  a 
bit  excited  yet  feeling  that  I  had  something  to  do  the 
next  day.  Perhaps  one  more  personal  note  might 
be  made  here.  If  I  had  been  engaged  weeks  before 
to  ride  the  favourite  I  might  have  felt  exactly  the 
same.  For  those  who  don't  know,  it  may  be  said 
that  one  mount  is  very  like  another  to  a  jockey.  Of 
course  I  have  known  some  men  get  very  nervous  when 
a  big  thing  is  at  stake,  but  after  all  a  ride  is  a  ride  and 
the  excitement  can  be  just  as  great  in  a  selling  race 
as  in  what  is  called  a  classic  race  in  England.  At  all 
events  that  is  the  way  I  look  at  it.  I  am  reminded 
by  my  Editor  that  the  late  Anglo-French  jockey 
Tommy  Lane  who  rode  against  me  on  Perth  III. 
when  I  won  the  Ascot  Gold  Cup  on  Merman  was  of 
the  worrying  kind,  and  I  have  known  others  among 
Englishmen  who  felt  pretty  well  the  same.  I  suppose, 
however,  that  we  Americans  somehow  or  other  are 
colder  -  blooded  propositions.  At  all  events  I  have 
never  known  Lester  or  Johnny  Reiff  or  Danny  Maher 
not  being  able  to  sleep  or  take  their  food  through 
having  a  big  thing  to  think  of  the  next  day — unless 
they  had  to  waste,  of  course. 

But  to  get  to  the  story  of  the  Derby.  I  had  never 
seen  Holocaust,  as  I  have  explained,  and  I  caught  the 
first  glimpse  of  him  when  arriving  in  the  paddock  with 

136 


FLYING  FOX  DELAYS  START 

the  other  boys.  I  was  very  pleased  with  the  look  of 
him  and  I  told  M.  de  Bremond  so.  But  he  didn't 
want  to  know  much  about  that.  He  had  backed  the 
horse  and  he  said  to  me,  what  I  already  knew,  that  "  I 
had  to  beat  Flying  Fox." 

He  laughed  a  little  and  I  smiled  back  at  him,  saying 
something  to  the  effect  that  one  never  knew  the  luck 
of  it. 

Well,  we  went  down  to  the  post  and  it  was  here  that 
I  began  to  think  a  great  deal  more  of  my  chance,  for 
Holocaust  stood  as  quiet  as  a  sheep  during  those  five 
false  starts  which  I  have  already  spoken  of,  wherein 
Flying  Fox  went  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  three  furlongs 
after  every  breakaway.  Yes,  I  was  just  tickled  to 
death  with  the  grey  ;  he  was  beautifully  behaved — 
as  quiet  and  good-natured  a  horse  as  I  had  ever  been  on. 

At  last  at  the  sixth  attempt  we  were  off.  We  went 
up  the  hill  to  the  top  and  raced  down  to  Tattenham 
corner.  I  was  a  neck  in  front  of  Flying  Fox  and  to 
my  delight  saw  that  Momy  had  got  his  whip  out 
on  the  favourite.  Before  that  I  hadn't  really  the 
remotest  idea  of  actually  beating  him,  and  anyhow 
I  should  have  had  no  pretensions  to  do  so  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  those  false  starts.  I  got  Morny  on  the  rails 
and  I  was  going  as  easily  as  possible  whereas  Flying 
Fox  got  the  stick  again. 

We  crossed  the  Tan  road  and  had  only  about  a 
furlong  and  a  half  to  go,  with  Flying  Fox  well  beaten 
by  this  time  and  Holocaust  not  having  been  called 
on  for  any  effort  at  all.  Suddenly  something 
happened — I  thought  I  had  been  cut  into.  There  was 
a  shock,  and  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  keep  in 
my  saddle.  The  poor  beggar  rolled  from  side  to  side 
but  he  didn't  come  down  as  many  have  asserted  that 
he  did.     Of  course  he  eased  up  very  soon  to  a  walk. 

137 


TOD   SLOAN 

He  was  a  horrible  sight  with  his  leg  broken  off  short ; 
in  fact  the  stump  was  sticking  in  the  ground.  How 
he  had  gone  on  for  even  that  extra  hundred  and  twenty 
yards  I  don't  know.  But  a  horse  with  his  blood  up 
will  stick  to  it  without  apparently  feeling  anything. 
When  I  got  off  his  back  he  began  munching  the 
grass  ! 

I  was  terribly  upset  at  the  sight  of  the  poor  beast, 
and  it  is  beyond  question — ^and  future  generations 
should  believe  me  when  I  say  this — that  I  was  never 
more  certain  then  or  now  that  I  had  another  horse 
positively  beaten  than  I  was  that  day  about  Flying 
Fox.  There  wouldn't  have  been  a  close  finish  even  ; 
for,  as  I  have  said,  I  was  going  so  easily,  and  there 
was  any  amount  left  in  M.  de  Bremond's  horse. 

What  followed  is  well  known,  the  poor  grey  was 
destroyed  in  a  quiet  field  soon  after. 

M.  de  Bremond  took  it  all  in  a  very  sporting  spirit 
and  agreed  with  others  that  it  was  the  most  extra- 
ordinary accident  imaginable.  It  was  natural  for 
Morny  to  think  that  he  could  have  won,  for  Flying 
Fox  was  such  a  wonderful  horse  and  would  struggle 
on  to  the  end.  But  there  are  limits  even  to  what  a 
great  horse  can  do,  especially  when  he  had  gone  well 
over  a  mile  before  the  start  had  taken  place  and 
that  quite  apart  from  getting  back  to  the  post  each 
time.  Morny  and  I  talked  it  over  many  times  after- 
wards. 

Perhaps  it  would  have  been  a  shame  if  the  better 
horse,  Flying  Fox,  had  been  beaten,  but  still  that  is 
all  in  the  luck  of  the  game.  Certainly  it  was  a  disaster 
that  M.  de  Bremond  should  lose  an  animal  who  would 
have  been  worth  twenty  thousand  pounds  if  he  had 
not  broken  his  leg. 

Mr  John  Porter  told  his  friends  that  he  had  never 

138 


WHAT  CHARLES  HAWTREY  MISSED 

any   doubt  about  the   eventual   result   except   once. 
He  had  trained  the  horse  and  knew  him  by  heart. 

There  wasn't  a  great  amount  of  money  lost  by  the 
American  division  nor  a  vast  amount  by  the  French, 
but  the  price,  with  Flying  Fox  starting  at  5  to  2  on, 
would  have  given  a  splendid  return  if  only  Holocaust 
had  won.  There  never  was  a  Derby  I  heard  more 
discussed,  and  the  arguments  as  to  what  would  have 
happened  had  not  the  accident  occurred  never  seemed 
to  end.  I  was  often  referred  to,  but  with  the  exception 
of  telling  M.  de  Bremond  and  one  or  two  intimate 
friends,  I  never  thought  it  worth  going  over  hour  after 
hour  and  day  after  day.  It  might  have  appeared,  if 
I  had  given  the  opinion  emphatically  in  print  as  I 
am  doing  now,  that  I  was  conceited  enough  to  think 
that  I  could  win  on  "  anything  " — and  I  was  anxious 
not  to  have  too  many  unpleasant  little  things  attributed 
to  me  !  But — just  once  more — it  was  10  to  1  my 
beating  Flying  Fox  after  the  incidents  at  the  post. 
This  is  repetition  I  know.  But  I  will  add  yet  again 
in  a  different  phrase  that  it  was  20  ^o  1  against  my 
beating  him  if  we  had  got  away  at  the  first  attempt. 
I  want  to  emphasise  everything  I  have  said  in 
praise  about  the  great  son  of  Orme  in  a  previous 
chapter. 

I  dare  say  that  Charles  Hawtrey  may  sometimes 
wake  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night  and  think  of  what 
he  would  have  won  over  Holocaust,  and  he  has  a 
right  to.  His  judgment  was  so  right  in  thinking  he 
had  put  me  on  to  a  good  thing.  M.  de  Bremond  was 
not  sorry  that  he  had  put  me  up  although  it  was  a 
disastrous  start  in  his  colours. 

I  had  at  one  time  one  or  two  good  pictures  of  the 
principal  horses  in  that  Derby  parading  round  the 
paddock  before  the  race,  but  I  put  them  away  some 

139 


TOD  SLOAN 

years  ago  and  have  never  looked  at  them  since.  It  is 
the  ambition  of  every  jockey  to  win  a  Derby,  and  that 
I  had  the  chance  of  doing  so  at  the  first  attempt  is 
almost  too  much  to  chew  over.  However — who 
knows  ?     I  am  not  dead  yet ! 


140 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FLYING    FOX    AND    CAIMAN 

The  Tragedy  of  Sibola — Beaten  by  "Temper" 

Flying  Fox  showed  in  the  Two  Tliousand  Guineas 
what  a  horse  Caiman  was.  Of  course  I  knew  a  long 
time  before  that  Lord  Wilham  and  Huggins  had  hopes 
of  Caiman  proving  a  top-sawyer,  but  I've  said  ah-eady 
that  I  never  held  any  view  about  him  except  that  he 
was  a  good  class  selling  plater.  Still,  he  was  backed 
by  the  American  division  and  in  the  race  I  did  do  all  I 
could  to  get  a  surprise  run  away  from  the  big  horse. 
In  the  event  Morny  won  as  he  liked.  He  wasn't  going 
to  be  slipped  as  he  was  in  the  Middle  Park  Plate  the 
year  before. 

Caiman  and  Flying  Fox  were  to  meet  again  in  the 
St  Leger.  We  ran  two.  Disguise  II.  being  the  other. 
Lord  William  had  never  lost  confidence  in  Cairnan, 
and  I  got  "  Skeets  "  Martin  to  take  the  mount  on  the 
second  string.  He  demurred  a  bit  at  first  at  the  idea 
of  riding  the  one  who  was  to  do  the  donkey  work,  but 
in  the  end  it  was  arranged.  Then  I  went  to  Lord 
William  and  asked  him  to  give  me  permission  to  ride 
any  way  I  chose  and  to  let  me  tell  Martin  what  he  was 
to  do.  Huggins  was  averse  from  leaving  it  all  to  me, 
but  eventually  Lord  William  talked  him  over.  To 
hear  Huggins  speak  about  Caiman  anyone  would 
have  thought  that  he  had  already  beaten  Flying  Fox. 
Of  course  /  knew  that  it  would  be  by  the  biggest  bit  of 
luck  if  he  did.     The  Duke  of  Westminster's  colt  had 

141 


TOD  SLOAN 

improved  enormously.  He  had  broadened  and  was 
stronger — looking  beyond  the  usual  development  when 
I  saw  him  in  the  Two  Thousand,  and  I  knew  he  had 
gone  on  in  the  right  way  up  to  Doncaster. 

There  was  only  one  thing  for  it,  to  try  and  devise 
some  plan  that  should  do  in  the  favourite — of  course 
I  mean  something  that  came  within  the  rules  of  racing. 
I  arranged  with  Martin  to  stay  with  me  the  night  be- 
fore the  race  so  that  I  might  tell  him  what  I  thought. 
My  plan,  to  which  he  listened  very  carefully,  was  for 
Disguise  to  lay  alongside  of  Flying  Fox  to  the  turn  for 
home.  Martin  was  to  "  cluck "  to  his  horse  very 
frequently,  not  to  shake  him  up  but  just  to  keep  him 
going  by  making  a  noise  with  the  tongue  against  the 
roof  of  the  mouth  as  loud  as  he  could.  "  Keep  him 
head  and  head,  Skeets,"  I  said,  "and  after  the  turn  if 
I  holler  out  to  you  '  Go  on,'  then  pull  out  to  the  right 
and  let  me  through  on  Caiman  ;  but  if  I  shout  to  you 
'  Pull  out,'  you'll  know  I'm  beaten  and  you  must  do 
what  you  can." 

We  had  a  very  good  start  and  Martin  on  Disguise  II. 
did  exactly  what  had  been  arranged.  You  could 
have  heard  his  "  clucking  "  yards  away.  Every  time 
he  let  out  the  sound  Flying  Fox  would  jump  yards, 
pulling  Morny's  arms  out  of  their  sockets.  I  can  tell 
you  he  was  furious  during  the  race  and  he  didn't  forget 
to  tell  Martin  so  after  it  was  all  over.  Well,  we  got 
near  the  turn  and  rounded  it  with  Caiman  going 
easily.  As  arranged  I  shouted,  "Go  on,  Skeets  I  " 
But  Martin  was  an  actor  who  had  forgotten  his  cue. 
Instead  of  pulling  out  he  kept  on,  and  I  was  on  his  heels 
instead  of  getting  the  opening  to  keep  Cannon  on  the 
rails.  Of  course  any  chance  of  pulling  off  the  un- 
expected was  at  an  end.  I  had  to  go  on  the  outside 
and  although  I  just  headed  the  big  horse  two  hundred 

142 


In  King  Edward's  Colours 

Autumn,  iSqq 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  SIBOLA 

yards  from  home  he  then  went  away  from  me  as  easily 
as  possible. 

There  was  just  a  possibility  that  if  Martin  had  done 
as  we  had  arranged  I  might  have  stolen  the  race,  for 
with  one  sharp  run  from  the  turn  through  a  clear  space 
I  might  have  got  a  lead  of  Morny  which  he  couldn't 
have  made  up  in  the  time.  Still,  as  I  have  said,  far 
and  away  the  best  horse  won  the  race  and  neither 
Lord  William  nor  Huggins  disapproved  of  my  tactics. 
They  didn't  come  off,  that's  all,  but  Morny  I  fancy 
will  never  forget  the  way  the  winner  fought  him  every 
time  Skeets  "  clucked."  I  laughed  then  and  I  can 
laugh  now  at  the  way  he  pitched  into  Martin.  In  that 
last  burst  of  speed  of  Flying  Fox's  it  wasn't  so  much 
that  Morny  called  to  him,  but  that  directly  he  saw 
Caiman  the  horse  knew  all  about  it  and  raced  away  from 
him  altogether  on  his  own.  I  believe  that  if  we  hadn't 
run  two  strings  in  that  race  Caiman  wouldn't  have  been 
in  the  first  three  even,  and  that  is  emphatic  enough. 
I  rousted  Skeets  but  he  answered,  "  You  called  '  Go  on ! ' 
and  I  went  on  " — and  what  was  the  good  of  arguing  ! 

In  the  Spring  I  had  ridden  Sibola  home  a  winner  in 
the  One  Thousand  ;  she  was  not  a  high-class  mare  but 
a  nicish  sort.  I  was  riding  with  such  confidence  that  I 
believe  that  there  must  have  been  a  certain  amount  of 
it  transferred  to  the  mounts  I  had.  Tlie  successes  I 
had  were  certainly  remarkable.  Musa  ran  third  in  the 
One  Tliousand  and  was  destined  to  just  beat  me  in 
the  Oaks,  but  I  shall  always  put  it  down  to  my  own 
fault  and  temper  that  I  lost  that  race  at  Epsom.  I 
ought  to  have  won  it  with  a  good  margin  in  hand.  As 
it  was,  many  think  that  Sibola  did  win — but  the  judge 
didn't.  She  was  a  7  to  4  on  favourite  and  when  I 
went  down  to  the  paddock  before  the  race  Lord 
Charles  Beresford  was  standing  with  Lord  William. 

143 


(( 
(( 


TOD  SLOAN 

He  said  to  me  : 

"  I  never  bet  but  I've  come  down  here  to  see  Sibola 
win  and  to  put  five  pounds  on  her."  Then  he  looked 
me  straight  in  the  eye. 

I'll  win  all  right,  my  lord,"  I  replied. 
Mind  you  do,"  he  snapped,  and  gave  me  another 
glance. 

Lord  William  was  rather  amused  when  I  added : 
"  And  you  can  have  a  bit  more  on  too  if  you  like." 

We  got  to  the  post  and  there  were  three  or  four 
false  breaks.  I  must  admit  that  I  was  trying  to  beat 
the  starter  and  he  didn't  half  give  it  to  me  for  what  I 
was  doing.  At  last  he  let  them  go  with  me  not  ready 
and  left  standing.  I  was  mad  with  rage  and  in  my 
furious  temper  I  did  what  I  had  always  told  young 
boys  never  to  attempt.  It  was  the  worst  race  I  ever 
rode  in  my  life  and  never  shall  I  forgive  myself  for 
allowing  my  vexation  to  overcome  my  better  judgment. 
/  made  up  all  the  lost  ground  going  up  the  hill,  and  when 
I  got  to  the  top  Sibola  was  a  tired  mare.  I  ought  to 
have  allowed  a  mile  to  recover  the  distance  I  had  lost 
at  the  post ;  then  we  couldn't  have  lost.  Certainly  I 
got  a  steadier  at  her  a  little  time  afterwards,  and 
Madden  on  Musa  and  I  rode  a  desperate  finish. 

After  we  passed  the  post  and  got  down  to  the 
paddock  to  turn  back  to  scale  Madden  said  to  me, 
"  I  think  you  won  it,  Tod,"  and  I  was  sure  I  had.  We 
were  both  surprised  when  Musa's  number  was  seen 
in  the  frame.  There  seemed  a  fate  against  me  that 
day — at  least  the  mood  I  was  in  made  me  think  so. 
First  the  starter  and  then  the  judge.  However,  one 
mustn't  think  too  much  of  the  ideas  formed  at  a  time 
like  that.  Anyhow  I  am  telling  this  story  all  against 
myself,  making  no  excuses  at  all. 

Lord   Charles  altered   towards   me  after  that.     It 

144 


y 


0  is 


o    ? 


BEATEN  BY  TEIVIPER 

wasn't  the  loss  of  the  five  pounds,  but  what  I  suppose 
annoyed  him  was  that  I  had  been  so  cocky  about  my 
certainty  of  winning.  I  saw  him  several  times  after- 
wards but  he  never  relaxed.  Even  once  in  Chicago 
when  I  called  on  him  when  he  was  passing  through  he 
was  as  cold  as  can  be.  I  deserved  it  I  suppose,  and 
I  wonder  Lord  William  took  it  so  well.  The  whole 
cause  of  my  losing  that  race  is  summarised  in  one  word, 

TEMPER. 

Morny  Cannon  was  having  a  rare  good  time  that 
year,  for  besides  winning  three  classic  races  he  had  taken 
the  Great  Yorkshire  Handicap  on  Calveley,  the  City 
and  Suburban  with  Newhaven  II.,  and  a  lot  more. 
His  score  for  that  season  was  a  hundred  and  twenty 
wins.  For  a  long  time  we  got  on  very  well  together. 
But  the  new  style  of  riding  passed  him  by  for  he  could 
never  be  induced  to  adopt  the  forward  seat.  He  need 
not  have  ridden  very  short  to  have  accomplished  this. 
I  would  repeat  that  it  was  quite  a  false  idea  that  I  rode 
very  short :  that  was  left  to  those  who  followed  me. 

Fred  Rickaby,  a  first-class  rider,  used  to  come  out 
and  take  pointers  from  me  ;  what  I  mean  to  say  is  he 
was  not  above  doing  so,  just  as  I  would  have  done  had 
it  been  to  my  advantage.  Sam  Loates  was  quick  to 
take  anything  too  and  Madden  was  a  hustling  rider 
who  I  always  had  to  look  out  for.  In  fact  Madden 
took  as  much  shaking  off  as  any  of  those  I  rode  against 
in  1899.  He  topped  the  list  with  a  hundred  and  thirty 
wins. 


K 


145 


CHAPTER   XX 

JOCKEYS    AND    JOCKEYSHIP 

Johnny  Reiff 's  Start — Sam  and  Tom  Loates — Thrifty  Jockeys 

I  HAVE  often  been  asked  who  in  my  opinion  were  the 
best  jockeys  I  ever  saw  and  I  have  no  hesitation  what- 
ever in  saying  that  of  the  old  school  Harry  Griffin,  the 
American  jockey  (I  have  explained  I  took  a  tip  from 
him  when  inventing  my  own  style),  was  never  ap- 
proached. He  was  the  division  between  the  old  order 
of  things  and  the  new.  It  isn't  that  I  was  more  easily 
impressed  then,  but  going  back  years  I  am  confident 
that  he  was  far  and  away  the  greatest. 

The  next  to  Griffin  and  of  the  present  school  was 
Lester  Reiff,  and  his  was  really  an  extraordinary 
career.  In  California  he  was  actually  put  aside  for 
incompetency,  and  with  many  others  I  could  only 
agree  with  the  action  of  the  Stewards  for  he  couldn't 
do  anything  right.  He  was  a  good  stableman,  and 
Wishard  believed  in  him  so  much  that  he  brought  him 
over  to  England  with  his  younger  brother,  Johnny. 
Lester  was  quite  a  failure  on  English  courses  to  begin 
with,  but  then  suddenly  he  began  to  develop  an 
entirely  new  style,  and  when  he  adopted  this  the 
difference  was  astounding.  He  was  the  best  rider  of 
his  time  I  ever  rode  against ;  in  fact  he  was  simply 
wonderful,  as  his  record  in  England  shoAvs  so  unmis- 
takably. He  had  no  trouble  in  topping  the  list  in 
1900,  and  deserved  every  bit  of  his  success.  He  made 
fewer  mistakes  than  any  of  us,  and  was  alert,  would 

146 


Lestfr  Rkiff 

From  S/>y's  caricntiii-e  in   '"  Vanity  Fair,"   IQOO 


JOHNNY  REIFF'S  START 

take  chances,  and  for  his  years  was  a  rare  good  judge 
of  form.  It  was  a  great  pity  when  he  quitted  race 
riding. 

Johnny  Reiff  was  quite  a  little  kid  when  he  came 
over  with  his  brother.  He  couldn't  have  weighed  more 
than  4  st.  6  lbs.,  being  then  about  thirteen  years  old. 
He  was  such  an  infant  that  some  of  the  jockeys  used 
to  complain  about  his  being  allowed  to  ride  ;  they  were 
afraid  of  hurting  him.  Nevertheless  he  kept  on,  and 
with  the  mounts  he  got  rode  twenty-seven  winners  in 
1899,  and  a  hundred  and  twenty-four  in  1900 — making 
him  third  to  Lester  Reiff  and  Sam  Loates. 

Soon  after  he  arrived  in  England  I  went  out  to  see 
him  at  Wishard's  place  near  Newmarket  and  found 
him  in  his  knickerbockers  by  the  porch  of  the  house 
playing  with  some  kittens.     He  seemed  such  a  baby, 
and  I  watched  him  before  I  took  one  or  two  of  them 
from  him,  for  I  share  with  him  the  immense  love  for 
cats.     Johnny  liked  to  hear  me  talk  and  used  to  ask 
me  different  things,  which  I  told  him  freely,  but  the  kid 
had  already  any  number  of  ideas  of  his  own,  was  a  born 
rider  and  had  developed  it  with  his  own  intelligence. 
\A^iat  I  mean  to  say  by  "  born  "  is  not  going  against 
what    I   have    said    previously   about   heredity,    but 
Johnny  had  the   instinct    for  jockeyship,   and   from 
every  gallop  and  race  he  rode  in  he  seemed  to  learn 
something.     Wishard   was   very  proud   of    him.     He 
was  proud  of  Lester  too,  especially  when  the  latter 
began  to  show  what  he  could  do.     Of  course  Johnny 
moulded   himself  a  little   on   what  his   brother  had 
changed  to.     Yes  indeed,  Lester  was  without  an  equal 
during  those  two  or  three  years. 

It  was  in  1899  that  I  cabled  over  to  J.  H.  Martin  to 
come  to  England.  I  told  "  Skeets  "  I  thought  he  would 
do  very  well  as  he  had  ridden  for  me  over  there,  and  he 

147 


TOD  SLOAN 

wasn't  very  happy  through  various  causes  in  America 
at  the  time.  He  arrived,  but  didn't  seem  to  shake 
down  in  his  new  surroundings  very  quickly.  He  got 
mounts,  however,  and  when  I  was  reported  by  Mr 
Arthur  Coventry  for  alleged  disobedience  at  Sandown 
Park,  and  the  local  stewards  sent  the  case  to  the 
Stewards  of  the  Jockey  Club,  Martin  got  another  chance, 
for  v/ith  two  small  boys  I  was  put  on  foot  for  three 
weeks.  He  rode  a  nice  few  winners  ;  my  suspension 
was  his  blessing.  Martin  was  about  a  year  older  than 
me,  and  had  plenty  of  experience.  He  is  a  fine  curler, 
and  keeping  himself  fit  in  the  winter  in  that  way  has 
enabled  him  to  keep  going  up  to  the  present  day.  He 
was  light  too.  By  the  way  that  was  the  real  cause  of 
some  of  Johnny  Reiff 's  successes  too,  for  they  were  able 
to  use  dead  weight  and  to  put  in  the  proper  place.  I 
know  that  it  is  going  against  old  accepted  ideas  to  say 
that  dead  weight  is  better  than  live,  but  it  is  beyond 
question  that  it  is,  for  it  remains  stationary  and  doesn't 
wobble  about  like  poor  jockeys  who  resemble  jelly- 
fish and  seem  to  be  trying  to  do  a  danse  de  ventre  all  the 
time  on  a  horse's  back. 

One  of  the  best  American  jockeys  who  ever  came 
to  Europe  was  Lucien  Lyne,  who  never  had  a  proper 
chance  in  England  or  he  would  have  got  right  there. 
Lucien  went  to  Belgium  and  has  been  very  successful, 
for  he  is  a  first-class  rider,  but  I  suppose  the  public 
has  to  see  results  to  appreciate  a  man. 

One  of  the  most  powerful  finishers  I  have  seen  was 
Willie  Pratt,  now  trainer  at  Chantilly.  More  than  one 
Grand  Prix  has  been  won  by  his  strength  in  the  last 
furlong.  I  have  heard  him  likened  in  style  to  Fred 
Archer,  but  can  only  take  this  as  the  opinion  of  others. 
I  know  that  with  several  friends  of  mine  I  packed  up 
a  big  parcel  after  I  had  quit  riding  when  Pratt  had 

148 


SAM  AND  TOM  LOATES 

won  the  Grand  Prix  on  Kizil  Kourgan.  lie  won  four 
altogether. 

If  I  were  asked  who  was  the  best  all-round  rider  of 
the  past  dozen  years  I  should  undoubtedly  answer 
George  Stern.  He  is  a  hustler,  and  he  never  minds 
what  sort  of  course  it  is — great  or  small,  right-handed 
or  left-handed,  whether  it  is  round  or  straight :  all 
come  the  same  to  him.  He  is  so  fearless  too  and  takes 
chances,  and  he  seldom  if  ever  loses  his  head.  One 
knows  that  he  can  get  out  of  tight  places,  and  it  would 
take  any  of  the  others  all  their  time  to  outgeneral  him, 
for  he  has  forgotten  more  than  many  of  them  will  ever 
know.  His  great  rivals  now  in  this  year  of  1915  are 
Frank  O'Neill  and  Johnny  Reiff  and  sometimes  I  should 
be  inclined  to  put  them  all  three  on  the  same  mark 
with  regard  to  ability. 

The  ex-amateur  Randall  I  always  thought  was  a 
good  rider.  I  watched  him  very  carefully  on  occa- 
sions. William  Halsey  too,  who  was  not  slow  in 
adopting  the  forward  seat,  was  a  man  of  great  ability, 
and  a  great  horseman  through  his  experience  on 
jumpers. 

It  was  an  asset  to  me  not  having  to  "  waste  "  like 
many  of  them.  Lester  Reiff  had  to  keep  himself  in 
condition  and  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  ride 
reasonable  weights  ;  that  was  where  Johnny  Reiff  got 
a  good  many  chances. 

I  used  to  be  called  to  task  for  not  appreciating  in  the 
way  the  public  did  the  ability  of  the  late  Tom  Loates, 
but  I  could  never  see  him  in  the  same  street  as  his 
brother  Sam. 

There  was  frequently  a  little  bit  of  bother  owing  to 
my  rivalry  with  Tom  Loates.  I  remember  once  at 
Epsom  one  of  his  chief  employers  came  to  me  to  the 
jockeys'  room  and  barred  my  way  into  it  while  he  said  : 

149 


TOD  SLOAN 

"  You  interfered  with  my  horse,"  referring  to  an 
animal  Tom  had  been  riding  and  which  had  much  dis- 
appointed the  stable. 

"  I  never  even  saw  your  horse  Mr "  I  replied. 

His  answer  was  : 

"  I'll  report  you  to  the  stewards  for  interference." 

The  only  thing  I  could  retort  was  that  he  had  no 
right  to  stop  me.  I  knew  the  rules  of  racing,  and  his 
jockey  had  never  laid  any  complaint  against  me. 
Nothing  more  came  of  it.  My  opponent  had  always 
been  reckoned  as  the  "great"  Tommy  Loates,  and 
judged  by  the  number  of  his  successes  I  suppose  he 
was  great.  It  was  when  he  began  to  lose  more  than 
usual  that  the  little  troubles  used  to  arise  and  it  was 
I  who  was  blamed. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  I  am  prejudiced  in  saying 
what  I  have  for  I  had  no  friends  to  speak  of  among 
jockeys,  and  I  don't  remember  ever  having  dinner  or 
luncheon — I  mean  "  parties  "  of  course — with  any 
other  jockeys  in  my  own  or  any  other  country. 

"  Pittsburg  Phil  "  had  a  good  many  things  to  say 
about  riders.  Some  of  the  brightest  have  been 
handed  down.     Here  are  a  few  : 

A  good  jockey,  a  good  horse,  a  good  bet.  A 
poor  jockey,  a  good  horse,  a  moderate  bet.  A 
good  horse,  a  moderate  jockey,  a  moderate  bet. 

Special  knowledge  is  not  a  talent ;  a  man 
must  acquire  it. 

The  majority  of  the  riders  and  horses  are 
game  and  will  fight  for  victory  no  matter  where 
they  are  placed. 

Some  jockeys  excel  on  heavy  tracks  ;  a  good 
mud  rider  will  frequently  bring  a  bad  horse  home. 

150 


THRIFTY  JOCKEYS 

A  jockey  should  not  be  overloaded  with  in- 
structions. Honest  horses  ridden  by  honest 
boys  are  sometimes  beaten  by  honest  trainers. 
Instructions  are  given  to  the  riders  which  mean 
sure  defeat,  intended  for  the  best  though  they 
are. 

"  Pittsburg  Phil  "  must  have  had  Lester  Reiff  and 
one  or  two  others  I  have  named  in  his  mind  when  he 
said  that  "  jockeys  make  a  great  difference  in  the 
running  of  horses.  An  intelligent  jockey  has  a  great 
value,  for  he  profits  by  the  mistakes  of  others."  He 
used  to  add  that  "  seventy-five  per  cent,  of  the  in- 
consistency in  horse  racing,  which  is  generally  put 
down  to  criminality,  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  lack 
of  intelligence  on  the  part  of  the  jockey." 

Just  a  little  more  about  jockeys  riding  in  my  time. 
There  are  rich  men  to-day  and  there  are  men  of  very 
moderate  means  for  all  their  hard  work  and  savings. 
I  should  say  that  George  Stern  is  the  richest  pro- 
fessional I  ever  rode  against,  and  all  the  time  he  has 
lived  well  so  there  is  all  the  more  credit  for  making  the 
fortune.  It  was  easy  for  some  of  them  to  get  money 
together  when  they  had  plenty  of  riding.  You  can 
believe  the  story  of  a  well-off  jockey  who  retired  from 
the  saddle  some  years  ago  and  recently  died.  He  used 
to  set  out  from  Newmarket  with  £3  and  always  make 
up  his  mind  that  he  would  come  back  with  at  least  £7 
after  having  paid  his  expenses  and  not  drawing  any- 
thing for  his  rides. 

In  1899  I  was  building  up  a  fine  fortune  myself,  for 
I  had  £37,000  in  one  bank,  besides  some  good  invest- 
ments in  New  York  and  California.  I  should  say  that 
for  the  length  of  his  career  Frank  Wootton  made  as 
much  or  more  than  anyone.     He  retired  earlier  than 

151 


TOD  SLOAN 

Dillon  did,  and  for  a  young  boy  the  latter  certainly  did 
well  in  savings  during  the  years  he  was  riding  success- 
fully. Madden,  Halsey  and  Sam  Loates  were  a  trio 
who  never  had  to  worry  about  what  they  were  going 
to  do  when  they  quitted  the  saddle  ;  however,  perhaps 
the  financial  status  of  jockeys  need  not  be  further 
referred  to.  Expenses  are  great,  and  as  for  myself 
I  would  repeat  that  I  never  charged  anything  for 
travelling  nor  for  riding  gallops.  I  scarcely  ever  rode 
our  own  at  work ;  in  fact  I  can  say  I  was  nine  times  out 
of  ten  engaged  in  outside  gallops  for  which  I  was  never 
paid  and  never  expected  to  be. 


152 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    BIG    PLUNGER 

loo-Dollar  Bills  for  the  "Girls" — Riley  Grannan's  End— Romano 

Hospitality 

In  the  Autumn  of  1909  I  was  again  to  ride  the  winner 
of  the  Middle  Park  Plate,  being  up  on  Democrat,  who 
beat  Diamond  Jubilee  and  Goblet,  these  placings  being 
repeated  in  the  Dewhurst  Plate  two  weeks  later. 
Diamond  Jubilee  hadn't  shown  much  at  the  time  but 
turned  out  altogether  better  than  Democrat,  who  was 
really  not  a  good  horse,  although  of  better  class  than 
Caiman.  In  the  Middle  Park  they  took  evens  about 
the  winner,  with  Diamond  Jubilee  at  100  to  7,  and  in 
the  Dewhurst  they  laid  5  to  2  on  mine  with  4  to  1  about 
Diamond  Jubilee. 

The  stable  always  thought  a  great  deal  more  of 
Democrat  than  they  were  justified  in  doing.  Another 
in  the  stable,  Blacksmith,  was  in  my  opinion  a  much 
better  horse  and  I  won  five  races  off  the  reel  on  him. 
He  was  a  very  hard  puller  and  ran  away  with  me  the 
first  time  I  was  on  him  and  he  would  give  trouble  all 
the  time. 

Betting  on  my  mounts  in  1899  was  Charles  Riley 
Grannan,  one  of  the  heaviest  plungers  when  he  had  the 
money  or  credit  that  racing  in  modern  years  has  seen. 
He  might  not  in  his  day  have  bet  so  much  in  one  sum 
as  John  W.  Gates,  but  he  would  have  wagered  and 
gambled  much  more  than  Gates  if  he  had  possessed 
them.  He  had  a  very  big  win  on  Democrat  when  I  won 
the  Middle  Park.     On  another  occasion  Riley  Grannan 

153 


TOD  SLOAN 

just  missed  taking  more  money  out  of  the  Ring  in  one 
afternoon  than  any  plunger  for  years  before  or  after- 
wards. I  can  recall  having  ridden  the  first  two  winners 
and  then  I  had  the  mount  on  Democrat  against 
O'Donovan  Rossa.  Grannan  had  wagered  £16,000, 
having  won  a  very  big  packet  over  the  first  two  events. 
I  shall  always  be  certain  that  I  beat  O'Donovan 
Rossa  by  half  a  length.  There  could  be  no  mistake  for 
the  two  of  us  were  locked  together  and  not  wide  apart. 
There  was  consternation  on  the  part  of  many  when  my 
number  didn't  go  up.  Grannan  was  mad  and  some  of 
the  "  boys  "  tried  to  console  him  by  having  bottles  of 
wine,  which  he  didn't  take  much  of  usually.  He 
simply  went  crazy  with  annoyance  about  it,  and, 
being  in  that  state,  came  into  the  Ring  and  put 
£20,000  at  evens  on  Desmond,  who  hadn't  been  out 
that  year.  I  know  that  the  first  bet  was  £13,000  from 
Pickersgill. 

Desmond  was  never  seen  in  the  race  ! 

If  Riley  had  drawn  over  Democrat  it  is  certain  that 
he  would  have  netted  £70,000  that  afternoon.  But  it 
was  said  that  he  would  never  have  got  away  with  the 
ready  money  part  of  it ;  too  many  of  the  "  boys  " 
were  after  him.  They  shadowed  him  and  were  all 
ready  to  take  him  to  town  that  night. 

At  other  times  Grannan  was  a  perfect  lunatic  bettor. 
Sometimes  it  came  off.  He  was  a  tall  thin  cadaverous- 
looking  man  with  nervous  actions,  although  he  was  one 
of  the  quickest  gamblers  imaginable,  either  at  poker, 
bridge,  or  faro.  Originally  he  was  a  bell  boy,  or  page, 
at  an  hotel  in  Lexington,  but  started  playing  the  races 
and  got  on  until  he  ran  into  money.  I  do  not  suppose 
that  at  any  time  he  was  worth  more  than  £60,000  or 
£70,000,  and  even  so  he  was  quite  liable  to  be  broke 
a  few  days  afterwards.     I  remember  he  lost  50,000 

154 


100-DOLLAR  BILLS  FOR  THE  GIRLS 

dollars  one  week  and  had  nothing  left.  That  was  in 
New  York.  He  was  staying  with  me  at  my  hotel  on 
one  occasion  two  or  three  weeks  after  that  loss  and 
came  to  me  one  morning  when  there  were  races  at 
Belmont  Park.  I  was  going  to  drive  my  wife  with  a 
friend  of  hers  out  in  a  car,  and  Grannan  said  he  would 
come  too.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  any  money  and  I 
told  him  not  a  nickel.  He  showed  me  10  dollars  he 
had  to  begin  betting  with,  and  I  knew  that  was  about 
the  strength  of  his  bank  roll.  At  all  events  I  got  a  box 
at  Belmont  Park  and  he  went  down  and  began.  He 
backed  the  first  winner  and  then  the  second  and  the 
third.  He  had  run  into  money  by  this  time  and  had 
6000  dollars  on  the  fourth  race  which  went  down.  At 
all  events  before  the  end  of  the  day  he  had  well  over 
5000  dollars  left  and  brought  the  girls  a  clean  100- 
dollar  note  each  and  we  were  all  right. 

At  another  time  I  knew  he  had  put  6000  dollars,  all 
he  had,  on  a  horse  for  an  event  in  the  future,  and  he 
came  to  a  mutual  friend  of  ours  and  asked  him  for  a 
loan  of  500  dollars. 

"  Are  you  broke  already  ?  "  said  the  man,  "  why  I 
know  you  have  thousands  on  the  next  race  ;  can't  you 
wait  for  that  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't :  I  want  to  put  some  more  on  ;  he  can't 
lose,  I  tell  you,  and  you  must  give  it  to  me.  I  wish  I 
had  fifty  thousand  to  put  on  him." 

He  would  never  hesitate  for  a  second  when  he  had 
made  up  his  mind,  and  when  he  had  a  real  fancy  would 
empty  himself  of  ready  money  and  get  all  the  credit 
he  could  cajole. 

In  1900  Grannan  came  over  for  half  the  year  to 
England  but  I  didn't  see  so  much  of  him.  He  had 
begun  to  bet  on  Lester  Reiff  and  was  going  very  strong, 
as  were  two  other  Charlies — Charles  Quinn  and  Charles 

155 


TOD  SLOAN 

Dwyer.  It  was  a  case  of  up  and  down,  one  day  a  small 
fortune  with  Grannan  and  the  next  hardly  knowing 
how  he  was  to  go  to  a  meeting.  Sometimes  it  was  a 
bit  of  a  scrape  up  to  settle,  for  by  this  time  he  had 
worked  himself  into  a  lot  of  credit  and  the  Ring  would 
stand  him  big  for  sums  until  of  course  one  Monday 
arrived  with  too  big  a  balance  against  him.  Still  he 
never  lost  hope  nor  neglected  to  keep  in  touch  with 
the  form. 

One  night  he  said  to  me,  "  If  I'd  been  racing  to-day 
I  should  have  won  a  fortune  but  I've  given  it  a  rest." 

I  was  putting  him  up  at  the  time  at  the  Lexington 
in  New  York.  "  There's  a  game  of  bridge  to-night, 
Tod,"  he  went  on,  "and  you  know  that  I  am  a  good 
player  ;  lend  me  fifty  dollars  and  I'll  make  something." 

He  told  me  where  the  game  was  to  be  and  it  cleared 
me  out  to  lend  him  the  fifty. 

I  didn't  see  him  till  the  next  evening  ;  I  thought  he 
might  have  had  an  all-night  sitting  and  I  wasn't  racing 
myself  the  next  day.  Just  before  dinner  I  came  across 
him  looking  down  his  nose  over  a  cocktail  and  asked 
him  how  he  got  on  at  the  bridge  game,  for  I  was  look- 
ing for  the  fifty  back  and  a  little  interest  if  he  had  had 
any  luck. 

"  I  didn't  play  no  bridge,"  he  said.  "  I  put  the  fifty 
on  a  horse  to-day  and  it  went  down." 

He  was  like  some  old  horses  and  was  getting  cunning, 
so  eventually  I  helped  him  to  get  out  to  California, 
where  he  said  he  would  be  all  right.  He  evidently  got 
some  money  somewhere  for  he  wrote  to  me  cheerfully. 

I  heard  one  good  story  of  him  out  there.  He  was 
up  in  a  friend's  apartment  very  tired  and  was  taking  a 
rest  on  the  sofa  sleeping  peacefully  while  a  dollar  game 
of  poker  was  going  on.  Hour  after  hour  passed  and 
still  Riley  never  stirred.     The  boys  had  got  a  bit  more 

156 


RILEY  GR ANNAN'S  END 

lively  in  the  game  and  at  last  one  of  them  called  out 
"  I'll  raise  you  ten  dollars."  This  had  an  electric  effect 
on  Riley,  who  hopped  up,  took  a  chair  and  said,  "  Give 
me  a  stack  of  those  chips.  I'm  in  this  business."  In 
half-an-hour  he  had  skinned  the  lot  of  them,  and  was 
owed  quite  a  decent  sum. 

It  was  soon  after  this  that  he  went  down  to  Reno 
and  beat  the  bank  out  of  more  than  they  could  pay 
him.  There  was  only  one  thing  to  do  for  the  quick- 
witted Riley,  to  tell  them  that  he'd  have  a  share  in  the 
establishment  and  he  became  partners  in  the  house. 
A  few  weeks  after,  however,  he  died,  a  comparatively 
young  man— I  don't  think  he  was  more  than  forty. 
At  his  funeral  in  February  1909  there  was  a  great 
oration  delivered  by  one  of  those  connected  with  the 
faro  bank  they  ran.  Tlie  speaker  at  the  graveside 
at  that  mining  camp  had  been  a  minister  at  some 
remote  time  and  I  have  heard  that  it  was  one  of  the 
finest  send-offs  a  dead  man  ever  had.  I  saw  a  copy 
of  it  once,  but  unhappily  cannot  reproduce  it.  Tliere 
was  a  quaintness  about  the  whole  proceedings  which 
was  quite  pathetic.  It  was  like  one  of  Bret  Harte's 
stories. 

Yes,  he  was  great  value,  Charles  Riley  Grannan,  a 
man  who  seldom  smiled  although  he  possessed  a  dry 
humour  that  was  real  wit. 

Betting  at  the  same  time  on  English  tracks  was 
Charlie  Dwyer,  who  was  then  about  twenty-five  years 
old,  a  great  plunger  just  like  Grannan — that  is,  when 
he  had  it.  He  was  the  son  of  Mike  Dwyer  of  the 
celebrated  Dwyer  Brothers  who  have  already  been 
mentioned  as  successful  race-horse  owners,  and  whose 
horses  were  first  hit  upon  by  Pittsburg  Phil  as  worth 
following.  The  partnership  between  Mike  and  Phil 
Dwyer  lasted  years.     They  were  originally  butchers 

157 


TOD  SLOAN 

in  Brooklyn,  but  got  into  the  racing  business  and 
eventually  gave  that  up  for  something  more  profitable. 
Mike  was  the  plunger  of  the  two  and  was  known  as 
"  Plunger  "  Dwyer  as  distinct  from  his  brother  who 
was  dubbed  "  Piker  "  Dwyer.  Mike  would  readily 
have  25,000  dollars  on  a  horse  while  at  the  same  time 
perhaps  Phil  was  putting  5  dollars  on.  However,  in 
the  end  Mike  left  nothing,  while  Phil  is  worth  away  up 
into  the  millions  to-day.     I  rode  a  great  deal  for  them. 

^^^len  the  partnership  was  dissolved  they  tossed  who 
should  have  the  right  of  the  original  colours,  red  jacket 
and  blue  cap;  Phil  won,  and  he  had  the  honour  of 
keeping  on  the  jacket  and  cap  in  which  such  great 
animals  as  Hanover,  Miss  Woodford  and  some  of 
the  greatest  horses  we  had  in  America  have  raced. 
Mike  adopted  all  white  and  was  very  successful  for 
many  years.  It  was  he  who  induced  Phil  to  come  into 
the  racing  business  when  he  was  about  twenty-five 
years  old.  This  led  to  the  amassing  of  an  enormous 
fortune,  which,  however,  was  not  kept  by  Mike.  He 
was  a  splendid  loser  for  I  can  remember  when  he  was 
in  his  declining  years  and  declining  luck  I  was  riding 
a  mare  named  Lady  Inez.  I  was  in  great  form,  and 
apparently  the  mare  was  too,  for  they  laid  3  to  1  on  her. 
Mike  Dwyer  had  laid  25,000  dollars  on  her,  but  soon 
after  the  start  she  broke  a  blood  vessel  and  of  course  I 
had  to  pull  up.  I  was  covered  with  blood  on  return- 
ing, and  caught  sight  of  Mike  Dwyer  sitting  quietly  as 
if  nothing  had  happened.  In  fact  one  couldn't  say 
from  his  face  whether  he  had  had  a  bet  or  not.  I 
went  up  to  him  and  said,  "  It's  too  bad."  He  replied 
quietly,  "  It  can't  be  helped,  we  must  hope  for  better 
luck  next  time." 

That  was  the  spirit  he  lived  and  died  in.  Phil's  son 
died  years  ago.    He  was  an  only  child.     I  believe  Mike 

158 


ROMANO  HOSPITALITY 

had  brought  Charhe  up  with  a  college  education,  but 
he  was  very  wild  and  up  to  all  sorts  of  pranks  and  he 
had  some  escapade  with  a  race-horse  of  his  own  in  the 
college  grounds.  Eventually  he  took  to  racing  with 
the  capital  of  about  a  dollar  and  ran  into  money,  own- 
ing some  good  horses  in  his  time,  one,  Africander, 
being  quite  first  class  and  winning  plenty  of  races. 
When  in  England  he  was  always  very  level-headed,  and 
would  gamble  on  favourites,  whereas  Grannan  always 
liked  horses  with  a  price  against  them.  Charlie  had 
wonderful  nerve  and  ability  for  his  age. 

Another  who  was  betting  pretty  freely  was  Charlie 
Quin.  He  had  a  handsome  and  most  gentlemanly 
appearance,  being  all  the  time  most  popular,  but  he  was 
somewhat  reserved  and  he  kept  his  own  counsel.  All 
three  of  them  lived  at  the  Savoy  or  the  Cecil,  and  there 
were  great  gatherings  on  occasions,  but  one  would 
seldom  follow  the  lead  of  another  in  racing,  adopting 
his  own  views  before  anything.  Of  course  I  saw 
something  of  them  but  not  a  great  deal.  We  all 
kept  not  exactly  aloof  but  distinct,  for  they  were  not 
following  me  in  particular  but  working  out  their  own 
ideas. 

Recalling  those  times  at  the  Cecil  I  made  a  little 
error  in  saying  that  I  was  never  entertained — at 
"  parties  "  I  mean.  I  remember  that  the  late  Mr 
Romano  showed  hospitality  to  me  by  keeping  his 
lights  up  long  after  the  time  they  should  by  regulation 
have  been  turned  out,  and,  with  a  party  of  friends  who 
are  all  living  and  whose  names  are  well  known  in 
certain  circles,  had  a  little  game  of  Nap  for  my  amuse- 
ment. I  said  I  had  never  played  it,  but  Romano  said 
that  was  ridiculous  and  that  anyone  with  my  intelli- 
gence and  with  the  card  mind  could  pick  it  up  in  five 
minutes  if  he  watched  it.     Well,  I  did  watch  it  and 

159 


TOD  SLOAN 

dropped  £350  ready  money  in  half-an-hour.  It  was 
so  silly  of  Mr  Romano's  friends  to  rush  the  game  so 
quickly,  for  had  there  been  some  encouragement  I 
suppose  that  I  would  just  as  easily  have  dropped  in  the 
long  run  (I  mean  at  many  sittings)  £3500.  I  didn't 
tumble  to  it  a  bit  at  the  moment,  but  when  I  got  up 
from  the  table  and  they  wanted  to  give  me  my  revenge 
at  some  other  game  the  graft  was  as  clear  as  daylight. 
Some  of  the  gentlemen  who  worked  the  West  End  and 
Continental  cities,  and  who  are  alive  and  well,  may  like 
to  know  that  they  missed  that  day  the  smallest  in  size 
but  yet  perhaps  one  of  the  biggest  mugs  about  at  that 
time.  I  only  stopped  short  at  thinking  I  quite  knew 
everything. 


i6o 


/' 


Johnny  Reifk 

From  Spy's  caricature  in   "  I'afiity  Fair,"  igoo 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A    VISIT    TO    AMERICA 

A  Missed  Bargain — No  Record  of  Bets — Handicapping  Americans 

When  I  was  suspended  for  three  weeks  after  the 
Echpse  Meeting  at  Sandown  Park  in  July  I  had  of 
course  nothing  to  do,  so  I  took  a  run  over  to  America, 
spending  part  of  my  time  there  in  New  York  and  four 
days  at  Saratoga.  I  was  asked  to  ride  but  I  refused, 
as  I  considered  that  as  I  was  suspended  in  England 
there  might  be  some  objection. 

Of  course  I  was  asked  any  amount  of  questions  as 
to  how  the  suspension  came  about,  and  the  papers  had 
something  to  say  as  well,  the  principal  statement  being 
that  I  must  have  been  at  my  old  tricks — trying  to  beat 
the  starter.  As  a  matter  of  fact  Mr  Coventry  had 
told  Lord  Marcus  Beresford  that  he  was  not  altogether 
pleased  at  the  sentence. 

At  Saratoga  I  gambled  each  day  and  won  over 
10,000  dollars,  so  it  was  a  profitable  trip.  By  the  way, 
the  suspension  I  have  just  alluded  to  was  the  only  one 
I  suffered  in  England,  except  when  I  was  put  down  for 
the  remainder  of  the  meeting  (one  day)  at  Doncaster 
after  I  had  beaten  Eager  on  Lucknow. 

Returning  to  England  I  was  certain  that  the  rest 
had  done  me  no  end  of  good,  and  I  began  riding  about 
the  first  of  September.  That  Autumn  I  had  my  first 
opportunity  of  riding  on  a  French  race-course.  Baron 
Schickler  sent  over  for  me  to  ride  a  horse  in  a  Plate 
for  him,  and  I  won  it.  The  jockeys  riding  in  France 
L  i6i 


TOD  SLOAN 

then,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two,  were  a  joke — 
as  many  Anglo-French  trainers  can  vouch.  On  the 
grey  I  just  beat  Dodd  a  head  :  he  said  he  was  kidding 
me  and  could  have  won  if  he  had  liked.  The  truth  was 
that  he  really  didn't  think  anything  of  me,  as  he  has 
told  me  since.  At  all  events  my  horse  had  his  head  in 
front  at  the  end  of  the  race,  I  had  £200  for  my  ex- 
penses in  going  over,  and  I  always  received  this  sum 
when  engaged  on  subsequent  occasions.  The  £200  fee 
could  have  been  maintained  at  that,  but  a  certain 
American  jockey  with  a  successful  record  quite  un- 
necessarily cut  it  down  to  £50.  I  didn't  want 
to  go  anyway,  even  for  £200 ;  crossing  the  Channel 
and  so  on  and  missing  the  Sunday  rest  took  the 
gilt  off  the  gingerbread.  Tilings  are  a  great  deal 
more  stringent  in  France  now  than  they  were  sixteen 
years  ago,  for  I  was  never  asked  to  show  my  licence 
and  I  might,  apart  from  my  colour,  have  been  Jack 
Johnson  instead  of  Tod  Sloan. 

It  was  in  Paris  that  I  first  formed  the  idea  of  the 
negligent  way  horses  were  kept,  about  which  I  have 
written  in  a  previous  chapter,  but  I  liked  the  trip  and 
looked  forward  to  others  afterwards.  The  American 
invasion  had  not  begun  in  France  but  was  getting  in 
full  blast  in  England,  and  a  good  deal  was  being  said 
of  the  number  of  races  won  by  certain  jockeys  and 
trainers,  and  all  sorts  of  statements  made.  The 
number  of  bettors  who  came  over  was  one  of  the  worst 
things  for  the  riders,  and  it  was  natural  that  the  in-and- 
out  career  of  some  of  the  gamblers  should  rather 
scandalise  old-fashioned  people  in  England.  It  was 
not  that  the  Americans  knew  any  more  how  to  wager 
and  make  a  good  bargain  with  the  bookmakers  than 
Englishmen  did,  but  there  were  so  many  suggestions 
that  they  stood  in  with  the  jockeys  that  things  became 

162 


A  MISSED  BARGAIN 

most  uncomfortable  all  round,  and  the  Jockey  Club  may 
have  become  uneasy  through  the  many  innuendoes  put 
about.  Some  of  the  backers  failing  to  settle  too  made 
things  worse  than  ever,  and  there  were  wholesale 
charges  of  doping. 

Wlien  in  America  on  the  visit  just  mentioned  I  again 
asked  "  Pittsburg  Phil  "  whether  he  intended  to  take 
a  holiday  in  Europe  for  a  time,  and  sometimes  he 
thought  he  would,  and  then  he  changed  his  mind  ;  but 
the  more  he  thought  of  it  he  said  the  more  he  preferred 
to  stay  where  he  was.  By  the  way,  I  have  just  read 
some  statements  attributed  to  "  Phil  "  about  part  of 
his  career  which  I  should  like  to  give  a  different  version 
of,  especially  for  those  sporting  men  in  America  who 
read  this. 

One  of  these  refer  to  a  horse  named  Previous  who 
belonged  to  Mike  Dwyer.  It  is  stated  that  he  was  a 
very  sulky  horse  who  would  not  get  away  at  the  post 
for  many  jockeys,  in  fact  not  extend  himself  at  all. 
He  was  never  a  sulker  but  he  liked  certain  conditions 
of  going  better  than  others.  Wlien  I  beat  Hamburg 
on  him  it  was  another  case  of  Caiman  and  Flying  Fox. 
I  kidded  Taral  who  rode  Hamburg  and  just  headed 
him. 

It  was  curious  that  when  Previous  was  a  two-year- 
old  Mike  Dwyer  said  to  me  that  he  was  going  to  sell 
him  and  had  received  an  offer  of  900  dollars  and  he 
should  let  him  go.  "  Don't  do  that,"  I  said.  "  If 
you  want  to  part  with  him  I'll  give  you  900  dollars,  but 
keep  him  and  you'll  win  races."  But  it  took  a  lot  of 
persuasion  to  bring  it  about.  I  spoke  to  Charlie 
Dwyer  and  begged  him  to  induce  his  father  not  to  part 
with  the  animal.  It  was  then  arranged  that  I  was  to 
ride  him  in  a  Plate,  which  I  won  ;  shortly  afterwards 
he  took  another  event  as  well.     Later  on  he  was  put 

163 


TOD  SLOAN 

in  a  much  more  important  race  and  he  won  again. 
By  this  time  he  was  reckoned  as  being  worth  5000 
dollars ;  and  eventually  after  one  or  two  more  successes 
and  the  beating  of  Hamburg  he  was  thought  one  of  the 
best  horses  in  America.     He  was  nothing  of  the  kind. 

Another  statement  which  Pittsburg  Phil  was  sup- 
posed to  have  made  was  that  Skeets  Martin  was  and 
is  a  good  mud  rider  and  it  was  this  knowledge  that 
caused  him  to  put  Skeets  up  on  Howard  Mann  who 
won  the  Brooklyn  Handicap,  beating  his  other  two 
entries,  Belmar  and  The  Winner.  "  Tod  Sloan  was 
riding  for  me  then  " — I  quote  Pittsburg  Phil's  words — 
"  and  he  knew  that  Howard  Mann  could  beat  good 
horses  in  the  mud  but  he  did  not  think  he  could  out- 
step Belmar.  I  believed  that  Howard  Mann  could 
beat  Belmar  under  certain  conditions  and  told  Martin 
so.  I  thought  Martin  was  better  than  Sloan  in  the 
mud,  and  when  Sloan  chose  the  mount  on  Belmar  I 
was  secretly  pleased.  The  only  orders  I  gave  in  the 
race  were  to  Martin  to  get  up  on  Howard  Mann,  get 
off  and  go  about  his  business.  I  added  in  a  joking  way 
that  if  Tod  were  within  hearing  distance  of  him  at  the 
head  of  the  stretch  to  tell  him  to  hurry  home  or  he 
would  be  too  late.  Wliether  Skeets  ever  said  it  I  do 
not  know,  but  if  he  did  Tod  never  heard  him.  Howard 
Mann  was  half-way  home  before  Belmar  hit  the  quarter 
pole." 

The  real  facts  of  the  case  are  that  Phil  only  had 
Belmar  and  Howard  Mann  in  the  race  and  Fred  Taral 
was  to  be  put  on  Belmar  who  had  no  chance,  but  I  was 
so  fond  of  the  horse  and  had  won  on  him  so  frequently 
that  I  didn't  want  to  see  him  perhaps  knocked  about 
by  a  rider  who  didn't  understand  him  ;  so  I  got  Skeets 
for  Howard  Mann  since  Phil  was  determined  to  run  the 
two.     There  was  no  question  of  Skeets  being  such  a 

164 


NO  RECORD  OF  BETS 

great  star  in  the  mud.  In  fact  a  reference  to  a  previous 
chapter  will  show  that  "  Skeets  "  was  not  very  anxious 
about  riding  Proclamation  in  the  mud,  and  handed 
me  that  winning  mount  in  the  Manchester  November 
Handicap.  Phil  was  certainly  right  when  he  said  a 
good  mud  rider  will  frequently  bring  a  bad  horse  home, 
because  the  riders  of  the  good  horses  are  not  always 
as  game  as  they  might  be.  Weak  boys  are  always 
handicapped  on  a  heavy  track.  In  such  conditions  a 
horse  needs  help  to  keep  him  from  sprawling  and  from 
wasting  the  energy  which  will  be  useful  later.  I  am 
sure  Skeets  will  not  take  the  above  amiss,  for  his  stand- 
ing has  always  been  admitted,  but  he  never  put  himself 
up  as  a  specialist  on  a  sulking  horse. 

^Vlien  I  was  at  Saratoga  during  that  holiday  I 
noticed  that  Phil  was  just  as  careless  about  not  jotting 
down  bets  as  he  always  had  been.  I  have  seen  him 
have  a  wager  of  10,000  or  15,000  dollars  altogether, 
perhaps  split  up  between  three  men.  After  the  race  if 
he  won  it  he  would  sometimes  but  not  always  write  it 
down,  and  if  he  lost  would  occasionally  not  bother  a 
bit  until  the  end  of  the  day.  It  was  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  he  was  not  a  hard  man  to  convince  that  he  had 
left  out  a  record  of  a  bet  when  he  was  claimed  for  some- 
thing he  hadn't  paid.  His  friends  often  asked  him 
why  he  didn't  make  notes.  He  would  smile  and 
answer  that  he  had  trusted  to  his  memory  for  so  long 
and  that  he  couldn't  be  bothered.  I  never  heard  of 
his  having  a  secretary  as  it  has  been  stated  he  had.  A 
secretary  wasn't  at  all  in  his  line  of  country,  although 
he  had  plenty  of  men  working  for  him  with  the  book- 
makers. 

Two  other  big  bettors,  John  Drake,  who  came  to 
England  in  1899,  and  John  W.  Gates,  who  made  such 
a  stir  in  1900  and  1901,  were  very  exact  in  their  records 

165 


TOD  SLOAN 

of  wagers.  The  former  in  particular,  whether  the  bets 
were  made  by  himself  or  through  a  commissioner. 
Gates  was  the  bigger  gambler  on  the  race-course  of  the 
two,  and  would  often  prefer  to  go  along  the  rails  him- 
self to  make  his  bets,  because  some  of  the  layers  he 
could  call  down — in  fact  buffalo  them.  Of  course  the 
way  these  men  bet  made  a  sensation.  One  day  in 
America,  by  the  way.  Gates  was  betting  so  high  that 
he  might  have  lost  a  million  dollars.  The  bookmakers 
saw  to  it  that  he  didn't.  It  wasn't  that  they  were 
afraid  of  his  not  settling,  but  they  didn't  want  him  to 
lose  too  much  in  one  day.  He  had  lost  a  vast  sum 
before  the  last  race — I  think  it  was  at  Sheepshead  Bay 
— and  wanted  to  put  200,000  dollars  on  a  3  to  1  on 
chance  in  the  last  race.  But  he  was  a  bit  late  and  they 
told  him  they  wouldn't  have  it  and  turned  him  down. 
He  was  furious  at  the  moment,  but  that  hot  favourite 
was  just  beaten  ! — and  he  did  a  war  dance  at  his  own 
escape  and  at  what  they  had  missed. 

Mr  Drake  was  a  managing  director  of  a  big  hotel 
company  in  Chicago,  where  it  is  well  known  Gates  also 
lived.  In  England  Duke  and  Wishard,  the  trainers, 
were  in  partnership,  or  rather  there  was  a  s^Tidicate  of 
which  Drake  wasn't  a  member.  There  was  a  talk  of 
Duke  going  away,  so  there  would  have  been  a  case  of 
dissolved  partnership.  But  from  whatever  cause  Duke 
didn't  go  and  bought  Wishard  out,  or  at  all  events 
Wishard  went  from  the  concern  rather  against  his  will. 
In  consultation  with  Drake  Wishard  said,  "  Well, 
Duke  has  all  the  horses  which  we  have  so  carefully  got 
together ;  it's  a  bit  awkward,  but  at  all  events  I  have 
the  two  boys,  Lester  and  Johnny  Reiff." 

Mr  Drake  has  told  me  (and  he  confirmed  it  only  the 
other  day)  that  he  went  to  his  bank  and  made  all 
arrangements  and  told  Wishard  to  go  ahead  and  get  a 

i66 


HANDICAPPING  AMERICANS 

stable  together.  Tlie  first  animal,  Escurio,  tliey 
bought  out  of  a  selling  race  and  put  in  a  handicap. 
He  was  given  top  weight  which  of  course  came  as  a 
big  surprise.  It  was  a  question  of  handicapping  the 
owner,  trainer,  and  the  jockey — Lester  Reiff.  Tlie 
English  officials  were  mad  about  the  dope  question  at 
the  time,  yet  Escurio  despite  his  top  weight  started 
at  7  to  4  on  in  a  good  field  and  won  it.  It  has  been 
stated  so  many  times  that  Drake  and  Gates  won 
£100,000  over  Royal  Flush  in  the  Stewards'  Cup  that 
I  was  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  in  this  year  of  1915 
of  asking  Mr  Drake  about  it.  He  said  that  a  hundred 
thousand  represented  about  the  exact  figure.  There 
was  a  great  purchase  for  you.  Royal  Flush,  if  you  like  ! 
They  bought  him  privately  for  £400  and  his  record  in 
1900  was  a  real  good  one,  showing  the  wonderful  im- 
provement which  could  be  made  in  a  horse  by  up-to- 
date  methods.  Let  me  add  that  when  Eager  won  the 
celebrated  match  against  Royal  Flush  Drake  and  Gates 
did  not  have  a  penny  on  their  horse,  for  he  was 
absolutely  no  good  in  the  going. 


167 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE    ASCOT    INCIDENT 

Yachting  Suit  at  Ascot — Lord  William's  Action — The  "  Cop"  pitches  the  Tale 

What  has  been  described  as  "  the  Ascot  incident  in 
Tod  Sloan's  career  "  has  been  scandalously  discussed 
for  years  and  I  should  say  that  quite  ten  thousand 
people  have  alleged  that  they  saw  the  whole  business  ! 
I  was  supposed  to  have  made  a  murderous  assault  on 
a  waiter  with  a  champagne  bottle.  The  occurrences  of 
that  afternoon  at  Ascot  never  seem  to  have  been  for- 
gotten. 

Now  I  have  promised  to  put  my  heart  on  the  table 
with  regard  to  nearly  every  incident  of  my  life : 
sometimes  it  may  be  in  excuse,  at  others  in  apology, 
but  above  all  I  want  to  clear  up  certain  reports 
which  have  been  exaggerated  or  even  maliciously 
invented.  It  seems  strange  that  such  a  small  man 
as  myself,  a  jockey  simply  trying  to  win  and 
treading  on  the  heels  of  so  few  with  whom  he 
came  in  contact,  should  have  been  the  object  of  such 
antagonism.  \Miatever  my  private  life  was  it  was 
for  the  most  part  with  friends,  and  whatever  others 
thought  I  did  not  bother  them  with  my  opinions  and 
I  always  tried  to  be  as  little  aggressive  as  possible, 
never  getting  into  arguments  unless  there  was  a  "  butt- 
in  "  on  someone  else's  part — which  there  frequently 
was. 

Before  describing  that  Ascot  business  it  is  only 
justice    perhaps   to    say   that    the    morning   after   it 

i68 


YACHTING  SUIT  AT  ASCOT 

occurred  I  went  to  the  stewards  and  made  a  full 
explanation.  Tliey  accepted  it  freely,  saying  it  was 
unfortunate,  but  that  they  had  nothing  against  me  for 
it.  Furthermore,  they  allowed  me  to  ride  during  the 
rest  of  the  meeting  and  all  that  season  and  during  the 
year  afterwards,  1900. 

Here  are  the  facts.  After  I  had  finished  my  work 
that  bright  summer's  day  at  Ascot  I  went  with  George 
Chaloner,  for  whom  I  was  riding,  and  another  man — 
who  had  been  engaged  by  Lord  William  to  see  me 
through  any  little  incident  which  might  arise  and  to 
show  me  the  way  about — to  the  lawn  behind  the 
stands,  and  we  sat  down  at  a  table.  It  was  very  hot 
and  there  was  a  small  bottle  of  champagne  ordered  of 
which  I  took  very  little,  not  having  had  a  drink  the 
whole  day.  After  a  time  George  Chaloner  got  up, 
saying  : 

"  I  have  to  see  about  my  horses,  but  don't  you  leave 
till  I  come  back."  He  was  particular  in  repeating 
that  I  wasn't  to  go  away,  but  I  never  exactly  knew 
whether  he  had  any  idea  of  "  rough  house  "  being 
played  or  not ;  anyhow  he  was  very  emphatic.  I  had 
a  cottage  near  the  course  and  as  it  was  very  warm  I 
had  changed  into  a  white  yachting  suit  with  white 
braid  and  a  peaked  yachting  cap,  which  I  had  worn  in 
America  when  on  my  boat.  Of  course  it  was  a  curious 
get-up  on  Ascot  Heath  but  the  racing  was  just  over  and 
that  white  suit  was  very  comfortable  in  the  warmth 
of  the  June  sim. 

Well  Chaloner  left  and  the  big  fellow  who  had  been 
appointed  by  Lord  William  as  a  sort  of  minder  for  me 
sat  down  with  me  at  my  table.  There  was  only  one 
waiter  about.  Two  tables  away  from  me  there 
was  a  man  sitting  who  kept  on  glaring  at  me  and 
presently  he  called  the  waiter  over  and  they  had  a 

169 


TOD  SLOAN 

loud  whispered  conversation,  part  of  which,  I  got 
the  idea,  was  to  the  effect  that  the  man  sitting  down 
would  give  the  waiter  five  shillings  if  he  would  upset 
the  table  and  the  champagne  over  me — ^and  my  suit ! 
I  could  not  make  out  then,  nor  have  I  been  able  to 
since,  whether  he  was  annoyed  with  me  personally  or 
that  my  "  costume  "  got  up  and  hit  him.  Do  you 
understand  ?  I  thought  the  whole  thing  was  maliciously 
done.  Shortly,  an  accident  did  happen ;  our  table 
was  upset,  and  I  caught  the  bottle  before  it  had 
got  to  the  ground.  Having  it  in  my  right  hand 
as  the  waiter  lurched  towards  me  I  made  a  light 
jab  at  him  with  the  neck  of  it,  meaning  just  to 
give  him  a  reminder.  The  bottle  never  left  my 
hand  but  where  I  touched  him  on  the  lip  he  was 
cut,  not  a  bit  badly  but  enough  to  bring  a  little 
blood.  He  went  away  then  and  was  talking  to  the 
proprietor  for  a  while.  A  few  got  wind  of  the  fact 
that  there  had  been  a  bit  of  a  shindy  and  came  around. 
I  had  just  left  the  place,  without  waiting  any  longer  for 
Chaloner,  when  Bill  Goode  came  to  me  and  said  : 

"  That  waiter  has  got  a  cut  in  the  mouth.  Now 
you  don't  want  any  fuss  about  it ;  you  don't  know  the 
place  like  I  do  and  it  would  be  as  well  to  square  him." 

I  protested  against  doing  anything  of  the  kind. 
However,  he  kept  on  at  me  and  at  last  I  gave  way  to 
his  advice  and  handed  him  five  pounds — five  pounds 
in  gold  mind  you.  Goode  came  back  and  told  me  that 
the  man  wasn't  hurt  and  was  not  only  satisfied  with 
the  fiver,  but  I  could  have  another  go  for  him  at  the 
same  price  ! 

The  whole  thing  at  the  time  seemed  a  simple  annoy- 
ance, and  dinner  almost  made  me  forget  all  about  it. 
However,  in  the  evening  another  man,  a  fellow- employe 
of  the  injured  waiter,  asked  for  me  and  handed  me  a 

170 


LORD  WILLIAM'S  ACTION 

blood-stained  five-pound  note,  saying  that  his  friend 
could  not  be  bribed  for  the  severe  injury  which  I  had 
caused  him.  .  .  . 

And  then  the  papers  took  the  matter  up  and 
there  was  a  new  version  every  day.  The  majority 
stated  that  I  had  "  heaved  "  the  bottle  at  the  man, 
that  I  was  drunk — everything  in  fact  was  said  that 
wasn't  true  ! 

Still  the  talk  went  on  and  I  wanted  to  take  pro- 
ceedings, but  Lord  William  said:  "Little  man,  let 
sleeping  dogs  lie."  It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  had  heard  the  expression  ;  I  know  I  ought  to  have 
known  it  before  but  it  seemed  so  appropriate  that  I 
never  forgot  it  afterwards.  * 

The  incident  was  still  being  discussed  and  was,  I 
should  think,  being  worn  threadbare.  Then  one  day 
Lord  William  came  to  me  and  said  he  had  hushed  up 
the  whole  business  and  had  paid  several  hundred 
pounds.     He  added  : 

"  Don't  let's  think  anything  more  about  it ;  keep 
your  mind  on  your  riding.  I've  paid  the  money  so 
that's  all  right ;  I  want  nothing  from  you."  But  I 
went  over  the  affair  again,  trying  to  convince  him  that 
the  whole  thing  had  started  in  the  beastly  attempt  to 
bully  me  by  the  waiter  and  his  associate. 

Then  Lord  William  used  all  his  charm  of  manner 
to  persuade  me  to  keep  quiet  and  to  say  nothing 
more. 

"  The  Stewards  exonerated  you  :  that's  the  chief 
thing,  little  man  ;  and  don't  let's  argue  any  more  about 
it,"  he  said. 

But  I  kept  on,  although  in  a  respectful  way. 

"  As  you  have  paid,  my  lord,"  I  declared  at  last, 
"  it  can't  be  helped."  But  naturally  I  insisted  on 
standing  the  expense  myself  :    it  was  deducted  from 

171 


TOD  SLOAN 

my  retainer  at  my  repeated  urgent  requests,  although 
for  a  long  time  Lord  William  would  not  consent. 

There  is  the  story  in  as  much  detail  as  it  is 
wise  to  indulge  in  of  how  I  thought  I  had  been 
made  the  victim  of  an  assault  and  of  how  I  replied 
to  it.  I  still  think  I  should  have  been  justified  in 
doing  something  a  bit  stronger.  I  would  ask  fair 
judgment  on  this,  for  I  have  stated  the  case  without 
the  slightest  exaggeration  and  without  excusing  my- 
self. Those  who  read  this  can  ask  themselves  what 
they  would  do  in  similar  circumstances.  I  am  not  a 
giant  and  didn't  know  exactly  how  far  those  two 
intended  to  go.  There  had  been  one  or  two  instances 
before  when  I  had  been  hustled  rather  badly  on  rail- 
way platforms  ;  at  one  time  indeed  I  was  nearly  going 
down  under  the  engine.  There  are  other  things  too 
which  happened  which  it  is  needless  to  bring  up  after 
so  many  years.  That  warning  of  George  Chaloner's, 
however,  was  significant. 

As  I  have  said,  every  other  person  who  discussed 
the  incident  had  his  own  version.  About  four  years 
afterwards  I  was  down  at  Maidenhead  at  a  cottage 
occupied  by  the  late  Major  "  Jim  "  Hill.  There  were 
one  or  two  other  men  there  too.  A  knock  came  at  the 
door  and  a  police  officer  came  in  saying  he  was  in  a  bit 
of  trouble,  for  a  present  of  coal  and  w^ood  and  one  or 
two  other  little  things  which  Major  (then  Capt.)  Hill 
had  given  him  had  been  found  out,  and  he  was  likely 
to  be  called  over  the  coals  (no  pun  intended).  Jim 
Hill  said  that  the  present  was  no  bribe  ;  it  had  just 
been  a  little  gift  to  the  man's  wife  and  children,  for  he 
took  an  interest  in  the  latter. 

The  officer  was  then  asked  to  have  a  drink,  and  the 
men  began  to  draw  him  out  about  different  little 
things  and  got  on  to  the  topic  of  racing.     The  "  Cop  " 

172 


THE  COP  PITCHES  THE  TALE 

had  scarcely  noticed  me  ;  in  any  case  he  didn't  know 
who  I  was.  He  spoke  about  Morny  Cannon,  Maher, 
Martin  and  others  and  then  Jim  said  : 

"  Wliat  about  that  chap  Sloan  ?  Did  you  ever  see 
him  ?  " 

The  man's  face  broadened  into  a  smile  :  "  Well  I 
should  say  so.  Wasn't  I  at  Ascot  when  he  slung  that 
magnum  at  the  waiter  and  split  his  skull.  Hot  stuff  I 
tell  you,  my  lords — I  mean  Colonel "  (he  called  them 
all  sorts  of  things  that  evening).  Resuming  he  said  : 
"  Well,  Captain,  it  is  very  nice  of  you  and  their  lord- 
ships to  ask  me  to  have  another  drink ;  I  never  take 
more  than  one,  but  as  I'm  off  duty  I  will  have  another 
spot.  Yes  that  there  Sloan  is  mustard  ;  what  he 
don't  know  isn't  worth  picking  up ;  but  he  can  ride — 
I'll  give  him  his  due.  But  that  Ascot  affair — I  was 
on  duty  just  by,  and  Sloan  wasn't  charged.  I  went 
up  to  him  and  asked  him  for  an  explanation,  but  kept 
my  eye  open  to  see  if  another  bottle  was  coming  at  me. 
I  tell  you,  my  lords  and  gentlemen,  he's  a  fire  eater 
that  there  Sloan.  He's  a  wonderful  fellow  with  a 
horse  ;  they  say  he  talks  to  'em  but — wot  oh  !  mustard 
and  cress  !  " 

He  wasn't  told  that  I  was  there ;  he  may  have  got 
to  know  later  on  but  I  don't  think  so.  I  tell  the  story 
because  it  is  amusing,  and  also  to  make  clearer  the 
fact  that  so  many  thousands  pretended  they  were  there, 
whereas  there  were  not  more  than  seven  in  the  vicinity 
altogether. 


^73 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

merman's  gold  cup 

Merman's  Gold  Cup — Engaged  for  Roughside — "  The  whole  Truth  " 

After  the  season  of  1899  I  went  over  to  America, 
riding  in  California  and  returning  as  in  the  previous 
year  in  time  for  Lincoln.  It  was  not  apparent  at  first 
but  as  the  season  progressed  there  were  black  clouds 
appearing ;  some  of  them  were  very  small  certainly, 
but  they  were  indications  of  a  coming  storm.  The 
Americans  were  secretly  and  openly  discussed,  and  it 
was  well  known  that  certain  inquiries  were  pending, 
chiefly  on  the  charge  of  dope.  Successes  were  almost 
entirely  attributed  to  the  use  of  drugs,  and  of  course 
while  this  was  rumoured  against  trainers  all  those  con- 
nected with  American  stables  were  dragged  into  the 
talk ;  in  fact  there  was  an  uncomfortable  atmosphere 
about  everything. 

Lester  and  Johnny  Reiff  were  doing  very  well, 
although  Morny  had  started  off  by  winning  the 
Lincoln,  Great  Metropolitan,  and  City  and  Suburban. 
I  scored  in  the  Chester  Cup  on  Roughside,  finished 
third  in  the  Derby  on  Disguise  II.  and  was  third  in 
the  Oaks  on  Lady  Schomberg  and  second  in  the 
Manchester  Cup  on  Joe  Chamberlain.  Then  Johnny 
Reiff  won  the  Hunt  Cup  and  Stewards'  Cup  on  Royal 
Flush. 

Merman  carried  me  home  a  100  to  7  winner  in  the 
Ascot  Gold  Cup  ;  Skeets  Martin  won  the  Northumber- 
land Plate  on  Joe  Chamberlain,  and  Johnny  Reiff  the 

174 


MERMAN'S  GOLD  CUP 

Goodwood  Plate  and  Great  Ebor  on  Jiffy  II.  After 
winning  the  Middle  Park  Plate  twice  I  finished  second 
on  Orchid  and  was  second  on  Codoman  in  the  Cam- 
bridgeshire. I  was  not  riding  the  last  three  weeks  of 
the  season,  having  ninety-two  winners  out  of  310 
mounts,  making  a  tie  with  ^lorny,  who,  however,  had 
had  one  hundred  and  sixty-six  mounts  more  than  I. 
Lester  was  first  and  Johnny  third. 

The  successes  of  the  two  Reiffs  had  naturally  not 
called  off  the  attention  from  the  great  topic  of  the 
American  invasion  and  its  consequences,  and  there 
were  plenty  about  who  were  ready  to  say  anything 
that  could  be  suggested  about  horses  who  had  run 
curiously  well  or  unaccountably  badly.  All  the  same 
for  jockeys  who  always  rode  to  win  there  could  not 
be  serious  thoughts  of  any  disaster,  and  nothing  was 
further  from  our  thoughts ;  certainly  nothing  was 
further  from  mine.  Looking  back  now  at  that  time  I 
find  that  everything  stands  out  sharp  and  clear  and 
that  details  and  impressions  have  stayed  in  my  memory. 
How  indeed  could  it  be  otherwise  when  my  career  as  a 
jockey  was  to  come  to  an  end  for  so  many  years. 
Before  coming  to  the  climax — which  w^as  reached  in 
the  Autumn  over  Codoman' s  second  in  the  Cambridge- 
shire— I  should  like  to  say  a  few  words  about  some  of 
the  earlier  races  and  especially  about  Merman. 

It  was  Gold  Cup  day  at  Ascot.  Mrs  Langtry's 
horse  had  been  brought  there,  but  the  reason  why  was 
not  very  clear,  for  Robinson  w^as  against  running  him 
in  the  Cup,  saying  that  he  was  short  of  two  or  three 
gallops.  I  pointed  out  that  this  was  not  necessarily 
against  him  :  at  all  events  he  was  a  fresh  horse  and 
had  not  been  overtrained  as  I  heard  one  or  two  of  the 
others  had  been.  Robinson  said  he  couldn't  do  any- 
thing until  he  saw  the  owner.     Earlier  in  the  afternoon 

175 


TOD  SLOAN 

I  had  met  Mrs  Langtry  and  she  told  me  the  same  thing 
— that  she  had  to  listen  to  what  Robinson  said,  and 
couldn't  move  in  the  matter  until  she  had  consulted 
him.  In  fact  each  of  them  was  running  about  looking 
for  the  other.  Then  I  saw  Mrs  Langtry  again  and 
said  frankly  to  her  : 

"  You  always  told  me  you'd  be  a  good  friend  to  me  ; 
now  here  I  am  without  a  mount  and  in  the  Gold  Cup 
too.  One  thing  I  promise  you  :  I'll  bring  your  horse 
back  to  the  paddock  after  the  race  as  good  as  he  went 
out.  He  sha'n't  be  knocked  about  at  all ;  he  can  win 
in  his  own  way.  After  all  it's  the  Gold  Cup  and 
Merman  is  a  good  horse." 

All  the  jockeys  had  weighed  out  and  the  time  was 
almost  up  when  at  last  Mrs  Langtry  and  Robinson 
finished  their  talk  and  decided  to  run  Merman. 
Robinson  said  to  me,  "  It  isn't  quite  fair  to  run  him 
but  they  are  doing  so  to  please  you,  I  suppose." 

I  was  late  at  scale  and  I  didn't  get  half  a  scolding 
from  Mr  Manning.  Anyhow  out  we  went.  I  was  told 
that  in  the  Ring  they  were  laying  33  to  1  against 
Merman.  I  know  that  some  of  my  followers  got  25's. 
They  laid  odds  on  Perth  III.  who  had  been  sent  over 
from  France  and  was  ridden  by  the  late  Tommy  Lane. 

Merman  was  such  a  nice  horse  to  ride.  I  could  do 
anything  with  him.  In  the  race  things  broke  just  as 
I  anticipated  ;  I  tacked  on  behind  and  had  the  wind 
break  for  over  a  mile  and  a  half,  and,  as  the  race  was 
run,  really  a  worse  horse  might  have  won  it.  Round 
we  went  and  I  could  feel  Merman  was  full  of  running, 
and  when  he  felt  like  going  along  I  let  him  out 
and  won  from  Scintillant  and  The  Grafter  with  the 
favourite  nowhere.  I  had  an  idea  that  Robinson 
wasn't  altogether  pleased,  for  of  course  they  had 
missed  a  golden  opportunity  of  backing  a  good -priced 

176 


Returning  to  Scale  after  Merman's  Gold  Cup 


ENGAGED  FOR  ROUGHSIDE 

one.  Mrs  Langtry  had  won  a  rich  stake  and  the  Gold 
Cup,  and  she  congratulated  me  on  winning.  I  got  the 
usual  five-guinea  fee  and  that's  what  the  Ascot  Gold 
Cup  was  worth  to  me  that  year.  And  the  Stewards 
blame  jockeys  for  betting  !  Merman  was  an  old  horse 
at  the  time ;  it  will  be  remembered  he  won  the 
Cesare witch  in  1897  when  a  five-year-old. 

Another  interesting  experience  was  over  Roughside 
in  the  Chester  Cup.  I  didn't  know  much  about  him 
but  I  had  read  up  his  performances  and  I  had  a  sort  of 
presentiment  that  I  ought  to  ride  him.  I  told  George 
Chaloner  who  said  : 

"  Wliy  have  you  got  such  a  fancy  to  ride  that  horse  ? 
Why,  he  has  been  hurdling  and  he  won  at  the  game 
too." 

That  made  me  keener  than  ever  to  get  the  mount  if 
possible,  but  I  took  no  action  at  all  to  do  so  for  I  didn't 
know  the  owner ;  but  one  day  somebody  came  to  me 
at  Sandown  Park  where  Roughside  was  in  a  jumping 
race  and  said,  "  Will  you  ride  Roughside  for  Mr 
Atherton  Brown  ?  He  is  ill  now  but  I  am  told  to 
ask  you."  And  without  any  hesitation  he  added, 
"  You're  on  a  monkey  if  you  win." 

Of  course  I  accepted  the  mount  and  I  looked  for- 
ward to  the  race  for  I  had  got  a  peculiar  fancy  that  I 
should  win  it,  in  fact  without  being  familiar  with  the 
horse's  capacity  I  knew  that  from  the  work  he  had  done 
on  the  race-course  hurdling  he  was  as  hard  as  nails,  and 
might  easily  be  capable  of  going  from  end  to  end. 

It  was  just  as  I  thought.  Slipping  away  at  the  start 
I  made  my  own  pace — waiting  in  front.  When  they 
came  near  me  I  would  increase  the  pace  a  bit  and  when 
I  slowed  they  did.  I  lost  no  more  ground  than  a 
champion  cycle  rider.  I  remembered  what  the  owner's 
friend  had  said  about  my  five  hundred  pounds  and 
M  177 


TOD  SLOAN 

I  slipped  round  that  soup-plate  course  and  I  won  it 
right  enough. 

But  I  never  saw  that  five  hundred  pounds.  Mr 
Atherton  Brown  sent  me  a  silver  cigarette-case,  and  I 
daresay  he  never  heard  of  his  friend's  promise  to  me, 
and  certainly  never  authorised  it. 

I  didn't  bet  on  that  race ;  in  fact  I  had  given  up 
betting.  It's  all  very  well — and  I'm  not  saying  this 
to  kick  against  the  rules — but  a  jockey  has  to  live,  and 
I  would  repeat  at  the  risk  of  boring  the  reader  that  I 
never  charged  any  expenses,  any  valets'  fares,  nor  a 
shilling  for  riding  gallops.  Winning  and  losing  fees 
sometimes  do  not  amount  to  enough  to  pay  all  the 
cost  of  travelling  at  racing  prices.  I  don't  know  what 
I  should  have  got  over  Roughside  if  he  had  dead 
heated  !  Some  of  my  readers  may  work  that  out  for 
themselves. 

On  Disguise  II.  in  the  Derby  I  had  no  chance  although 
he  was  third,  for  the  simple  reason  that  he  had  no  pre- 
tensions to  stay  a  mile  and  a  half.  Joe  Chamberlain, 
which  finished  second  with  me  in  the  Manchester  Cup, 
was  hardly  a  race -horse  at  all  and  he  was  up  against  a 
good  filly,  the  Oaks  winner  La  Roche. 

In  the  Middle  Park  Plate  in  the  autumn  Orchid  was 
a  great  horse  for  pace  but  had  no  idea  of  staying ;  he 
was  a  rattle-brained  animal  and  one  had  to  fight  him 
all  the  time  to  place  him.  He  turned  out  a  good 
sprinter  afterwards,  but  that's  all  I  ever  thought  he 
would  do. 

All  these  events  led  up  to  the  time  in  the  autumn 
when  Codoman  and  I  became  acquainted.  The 
association  with  this  horse  brought  about  so  much 
trouble  that  it  is  with  some  feeling  I  approach  the 
story  concerning  him.  I  cannot  but  think  that  the 
incidents  surrounding  everything  in  the  race,  the  bet- 

178 


THE  WHOLE  TRUTH 

ting  part  of  it  all,  the  public  talk  concerning  him, 
what  I  was  supposed  to  have  done  and  what  I 
didn't  do— I  think  they  must  all  be  told  at  length. 
Looking  back  I  see  plainly  that  there  are  plenty  of 
things  to  blame  myself  for.  I  will  tell  the  truth  any- 
way and  then  after  all  this  lapse  of  years  the  public 
and  the  heads  of  the  Turf  can  consider  the  whole  affair 
in  a  calm  spirit.  Many  of  the  actors  in  it  are  still 
alive,  and  jockeys  and  others  can  disprove  many  of  the 
allegations  which  were  made  against  me  at  the  time — 
after  the  race  was  over. 


179 


CHAPTER  XXV 

CODOMAN 

Changing  Codoman's  Plates — Santoi  as  Trial  Horse — Long  Delay  at  Post 

In  the  middle  of  the  week,  about  the  30th  of  September 
or  1st  October,  I  received  from  Paris  a  telegram  from 
M.  Maurice  Ephrussi  asking  me  whether  I  would  ride 
Codoman  in  the  Prix  du  Conseil  Municipal,  and,  if 
I  would,  how  much  I  should  want.  A  reply  was  im- 
mediately sent  saying,  "  Yes,  and  two  hundred  pounds 
as  the  fee  to  cover  everything."  Then  promptly  came 
another  wire  instructing  me  to  be  there  on  Sunday 
morning.  I  knew  nothing  about  the  horse  and  the  few 
I  asked  could  not  throw  any  light  on  his  chance  except 
that  he  had  run  well  in  the  spring,  but  had  been  un- 
placed in  the  French  Derby  and  another  important 
race. 

I  can't  say  I  was  extra  keen  about  making  the  trip, 
but  at  all  events  it  was  a  big  race  and  the  prospect  of 
winning  it  gave  a  little  excitement  to  the  journey. 
After  a  short  rest  at  my  hotel  I  went  to  M.  Ephrussi's 
house  for  luncheon  where  I  was  to  receive  more  in- 
formation. I  had  taken  over  with  me  a  set  of  light 
American  plates,  but  the  difficulty  began  when  I  tried 
to  persuade  M.  Ephrussi  to  use  them.  He  said  that 
his  trainer,  old  Mr  Carter,  would  be  against  it,  and  that 
he  would  have  to  consider  him  in  the  matter,  and  also 
that  he  thought  it  would  be  perhaps  better  to  let  the 
horse  run  in  the  shoes  he  was  used  to.  But  keeping  at 
him  I  saw  that  he  was  coming  round  to  the  arguments 

i8o 


CHANGING  CODOMAN'S  PLATES 

I  used.  He  told  me  he  thought  Codoman  had  a  real 
good  chance.  "Then  if  he  has,"  I  asked,  "why  not 
make  it  more  of  a  certainty  ?  " 

Finally  it  was  left  that  he  would  try  and  talk  over 
Carter  when  we  got  out  to  the  course.  There  was  some 
difficulty  in  this  and  perhaps  it  was  only  natural  that 
an  old  and  experienced  trainer  like  Carter  should 
resent  a  boy  butting  in  and  suggesting  what  should  be 
done.  I  saw  that  he  was  ill-pleased  and  not  at  all 
inclined  to  be  content  but  at  last  he  did  yield  and  the 
plates  were  changed. 

Tlie  plates  made  all  the  difference  and  some  people 
told  me  they  had  never  seen  Codoman  travel  as  well 
before.  I  was  lying  first  or  second  all  the  way  and 
shouted  to  the  boy  who  was  alongside  me  that  I  was 
not  going  to  make  my  run  until  the  top  of  the  hill. 
He  didn't  answer  and  I  suppose  he  thought  that  I 
might  be  kidding  him  ;  at  all  events  he  took  no  notice. 
Just  as  announced  I  slipped  the  horse  along  exactly 
where  I  had  indicated,  and  all  those  who  remember 
that  event  in  1900  will  know  that  he  won  comfortably. 
M.  Ephrussi  was  very  pleased  but  I  had  no  congratu- 
lations from  Mr  Carter,  who,  however,  let  me  say  at 
once,  has  been  very  pleasant  to  me  in  recent  years. 

There  was  at  the  time  no  serious  idea  of  Codoman 
running  in  the  Cambridgeshire.  Anyhow  the  race  in 
Paris  had  been  a  good  one  for  me  and  several  of  my 
friends.  The  question  of  any  present  was  not  touched 
upon  at  the  time  but  of  course  I  received  the  five 
thousand  francs  for  going  over.  I  was  pleased  with 
the  horse  and  began  to  think  that  although  he  had 
incurred  a  10-lb.  penalty  for  the  Cambridgeshire,  which 
brought  his  weight  up  to  8-10,  he  might  neverthe- 
less have  a  chance.  There  had,  however,  been  some 
talk  about  my  riding  one  or  two  others  in  the  race. 

i8i 


TOD  SLOAN 

M.  Ephrussi  came  over  to  Newmarket  for  Cesarewitch 
week  and  on  the  Wednesday,  after  the  big  race,  which 
beyond  doubt  Berrill  should  have  won — and  in  my 
opinion  could  have  done  so  easily — I  decided  not  to 
pursue  the  chance  of  riding  Berrill. 

M.  Ephrussi,  I  believe,  had  consulted  someone  as 
to  what  would  be  an  adequate  present  to  give  me  for 
winning  the  French  race.  He  had  packed  up  a  big 
parcel  of  money  over  that  event.  During  the  after- 
noon he  handed  me  a  cheque  for  seven  hundred  pounds, 
for  which  I  was  grateful.  I  thought  him  extremely 
liberal  and  there  and  then  I  said,  "  I  want  you, 
M.  Ephrussi,  to  send  Codoman  over  for  the  Cambridge- 
shire, and  I'll  win  it  for  you  provided  you  let  me  have 
charge  of  the  horse  for  a  week  before  the  race.  Let 
the  head  lad  bring  him  over  and  instruct  him  that  I  am 
to  have  absolute  responsibility  for  him.  I  will  take 
him  to  George  Chaloner's  place  and  will  get  a  real  good 
horse  to  gallop  him  with.  You  can  bet  what  you  like 
on  his  chance." 

He  discussed  it  all,  and  after  a  bit  wrote  a  telegram 
to  Mr  Carter  with  the  instructions  I  so  much  desired, 
and  the  horse  was  expected  to  arrive  on  the  following 
Monday  or  Tuesday. 

Then  I  began  to  think  over  the  chances  of  all  the 
others  in  the  race  and  I  confess  that  I  was  terribly 
afraid  of  Berrill,  who  only  had  to  give  his  proper 
running  to  be  a  great  danger ;  in  fact  I  had  an  idea 
then  and  afterwards  that  he  might  have  won  the 
double,  penalty  and  all,  but  he  was  fiddled  about  by 
curious  riding  in  the  Cesarewitch  and  I  thought  it  just 
possible  that  he  might  turn  cunning  in  consequence. 

Before  Codoman  arrived  I  had  persuaded  Mr  George 
Edwardes  to  let  me  have  Santoi,  then  a  three-year-old, 
who  had  not  shown  to  any  great  advantage  up  to  then. 

182 


Waiter  Davis 

The   Trainer  of  Santoi 


SANTOI  AS  TRIAL  HORSE 

I  wanted  him  at  Chaloner's  place,  and  I  begged  Mr 
Edwardes  to  let  me  take  charge  of  him  for  the  week 
before  he  was  due  to  run  in  an  engagement  on  the  first 
day. 

The  week  before  the  Cambridgeshire  was  practically 
devoted  to  looking  after  the  pair  of  them.  They  had 
easy  work  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  one  morning  they 
were  given  a  rough  up.  I  was  on  Codoman  and  a  lad 
on  Santoi.  I  let  the  two  horses  kid  each  other  that 
one  could  beat  the  other ;  as  a  matter  of  fact  they 
were  about  as  level  as  two  horses  could  be  :  but 
Codoman  finished  in  front.  I  had  a  great  opinion 
of  Santoi — in  fact  a  much  greater  liking  than  Mr 
Edwardes  had.  I  told  my  friends  too  what  I  thought 
of  Codoman's  chance  win  and  place,  and  there  were 
packets  of  money  put  on  him  each  way  ;  in  fact  nearly 
every  wager  was  on  those  lines. 

The  day  of  the  race  approached,  Santoi  was  in  the 
Select  Stakes  at  Newmarket  and  after  a  little  per- 
suasion Mr  Edwardes  agreed  to  run  him  but  at  first 
declined  to  back  him.  He  said  :  "  According  to  you 
it  was  a  sort  of  fake  gallop,  not  a  trial,  and  Codoman 
was  just  as  good  ;  that  isn't  much  of  a  test  to  risk  a 
lot  of  money  on." 

I  told  him  what  a  good  horse  Codoman  was,  and  at 
that  moment  I  was  convinced  Santoi  could  win,  for  I 
had  begun  to  have  an  enormous  opinion  of  him  ;  I 
have  referred  to  him  in  a  former  chapter  of  the  book 
as  being  one  of  the  two  best  I  have  ever  ridden  in  my 
life.  At  last  I  induced  Mr  Edwardes  to  have  a  big  bet, 
and  I  was  not  going  to  be  a  loser  myself. 

The  whole  thing  was  nearly  coming  undone  at  the 
post :  Santoi  was  impossible  :  he  fiddled  me  about, 
and  when  the  starter  sent  us  off  he  stood  right  still,  and 
the  others  were  a  hundred  yards  away  before  I  could 

183 


TOD  SLOAN 

induce  him  to  get  a  move  on.  There  was  nothing  for 
it  but  to  be  patient  and  canter  after  them.  He  made 
up  none  of  the  leeway  in  the  first  furlongs,  but  after 
that  things  seemed  brighter.  I  would  take  a  pull  at 
him  and  then  he  would  pull  away  from  me  and  I  let 
the  reins  slip  through  my  fingers  as  if  he  had  beaten 
me.  I  played  nonsense  with  him,  and  he  was  tickled 
to  death.  Then  he  caught  hold  of  his  bit  and  began 
to  act  :  he  looked  ahead  of  him  and  moved  as  if  he 
would  show  me  what  he  could  do.  I  didn't  need  to 
bother  him  after  that,  for  he  thought  he  had  me  beaten 
and  would  teach  me.  We  had  made  up  about  fifty 
yards  and  there  never  was  a  horse  to  move  as  he  did 
rising  out  of  the  dip.  All  those  who  had  backed  him 
thought  he  was  beaten  anyhow,  when  they  saw  him 
left,  but  in  the  end  he  came  along  like  a  steam  engine, 
passed  everything  in  the  last  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
and  won  anyhow.  It  was  one  of  the  most  extraordinary 
races  imaginable,  as  anyone  who  saw  it  may  remember. 

The  Cambridgeshire  looked  so  much  better  for 
Codoman  after  this  that,  with  the  pile  of  money  heaped 
on  him  that  night  in  addition  to  everything  which  had 
gone  on  before,  it  was  a  wonder  that  such  a  good  price 
as  100  to  7  was  procurable  on  the  day  of  the  race.  I 
had  thought  of  Berrill  a  few  days  before,  but  on  the  day 
of  the  race  I  was  not  afraid  of  any  other  of  the  runners. 

Mr  Luckman  has  told  me  a  lot  about  the  talk  which 
was  supposed  to  have  taken  place  in  the  jockeys'  room 
before  and  after  the  race,  but  what  I  have  stated  to 
him  in  conversation  I  should  like  to  repeat  to  every- 
one who  reads  this.  At  no  period  of  that  afternoon 
did  I  speak  to  anygne  except  Maher,  who  said  to  me 
after  the  race  :  "  I  wish  mine  had  won ;  I  had  a  promise 
of  five  thousand  dollars  if  he  had." 

I  answered  him  :  "  You  can  put  mine  in  pounds  and  a 

184 


LONG  DELAY  AT  POST 

great  deal  more  than  five  thousand."  As  a  matter  of 
fact  I  should  have  been  rich  for  life. 

But  to  deal  with  the  race  :  we  went  down  to  the  post 
and  it  will  be  remembered  there  was  a  fifty-minutes' 
delay,  during  which  of  course  Codoman  was  carrying 
8-10  continuously,  whereas  Berrill,  a  four-year-old, 
had  only  7-9.  When  we  got  off  at  last,  after  that  weary 
time  with  my  chance  getting  less  and  less,  I  could  see 
that  Berrill  had  the  lot  of  us  easily  beaten  ;  in  fact  he 
had  only  to  win  in  any  way  he  liked.  However,  he 
went  all  over  the  course  or  he  could  have  won  by 
twenty  lengths  instead  of  the  four  which  if  I  remember 
rightly  the  judge  placed  him  in  front  of  me.  There 
was  no  question  of  hard  luck  in  the  incidents  of  the 
race  :  Berrill  was  an  absolute  certainty  as  it  proved. 
I  have  no  hesitation  in  repeating  that  he  could  have 
won  the  Cesarewitch  easily.  Codoman  had  run  a  good 
horse  but  we  couldn't  reckon  on  one  like  the  winner. 
As  it  was  I  was  not  at  all  a  loser  over  the  race,  for  like 
a  great  many  I  had  netted  a  good  sum  on  balance 
through  getting  8  to  1,  7  to  1  and  other  odds  to  big 
mounts  for  a  place,  which  was  something  to  be 
grateful  for. 

I  am  told  that  after  the  race  I  abused  Thompson 
who  rode  Berrill.  I  had  never  seen  him  before,  and  I 
have  never  done  so  since,  but  I  can  state  with  all  due 
regard  to  truth  that  I  never  uttered  a  word  to  him  in 
my  life.  The  good  thing  hadn't  come  off  ;  that's  all. 
Well  there  was  the  usual  talk  about  my  having  done 
this,  that  and  the  other,  but  apart  from  natural  dis- 
appointment at  not  winning  an  important  event,  I 
looked  upon  it  quite  as  an  ordinary  race  in  the  natural 
excitement  of  others  which  were  to  follow  in  the  next 
two  racing  days  at  Newmarket.  There  had  been 
twenty-four  runners  and   M.   Ephrussi,    I   am   sure, 

185 


TOD  SLOAN 

thought  that  everjrthing  possible  had  been  done  with 
his  horse  but  he  had  met  another  much  better  at  the 
weights.  Berrill  was  receiving  a  year  and  13  lb., 
and  has  proved  at  the  stud  that  he  was  a  horse  of  class. 
His  owner  had  a  dead  certainty  in  him  and  the  wonder 
is  that  he  was  ever  allowed  to  start  at  20  to  1.  Many 
of  us  could  have  kicked  ourselves  afterwards  that  he 
was  allowed  to  run  loose  without  a  saving  investment. 
After  the  Cambridgeshire  the  clouds  began  to  get  a 
little  darker,  and  there  were  little  rumours  about  that 
I  was  to  be  asked  certain  questions  by  the  Stewards, 
but  I  did  not  pay  a  great  amount  of  heed  at  the  time 
to  the  talk  which  was  going  round.  What  was  the  use 
of  worrying  before  it  was  necessary  ?  I  had  already 
determined  to  finish  the  season  with  Newmarket.  I 
had  not  been  in  very  good  health,  and  I  was  convinced 
that  a  rest  would  do  me  all  the  good  in  the  world.  I 
did  in  fact  cease  riding  for  the  season  after  the  Friday. 


i86 


CHAPTER   XXVI 


DARK    CLOUDS 


The  Black  Outlook — Riding  Gallops — Losing  ^20,000 — Sale  of  Mauvezin — 
Lord  Harewood's  Advice — Throes  of  Unrest 

On  Thursday,  the  day  after  the  Cambridgeshire  was 
run,  the  Stewards  sent  for  me.  I  guessed  what  w^as 
coming.  They  told  me  that  it  had  come  to  their  know- 
ledge that  I  had  some  big  bets  on  Codoman,  and  also 
that  I  had  been  promised  a  present  by  a  certain 
gentleman  if  the  horse  won.  I  acknowledged  both 
things  at  once,  and  then  they  asked  : 

"  Don't  5^ou  know  it's  against  the  rules  for  a  boy  to 
bet  ?  " 

I  explained  that  I  thought  it  was  all  right — as  it 
was  in  America — for  a  jockey  to  back  what  he  rode 
himself  but  that  it  was  all  wrong  if  he  backed  any  other 
animal.  I  also  admitted  that  Mr  Frank  Gardner  had 
promised  me  a  handsome  present,  running  into  four 
figures  of  money,  in  the  event  of  my  winning. 

They  reprimanded  me,  and  I  went  out  to  ride  as 
usual,  finishing  up  the  week  with  the  win  on  Encombe, 
whom,  as  I  have  said,  I  advised  King  Edward — ^then 
Prince  of  Wales — ^to  back. 

Returning  at  once  to  London  I  let  myself  loose  on  a 
life  of  pleasure  and  I  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  change, 
although  naturally  in  a  very  few  days  I  was  physically 
unfit.  It  didn't  seem  to  matter  though,  as  I  had 
announced — ^and  it  had  been  stated  in  the  sporting 
papers — that  I  was  not  to  be  in  the  saddle  any  more 
that  year. 

187 


TOD  SLOAN 

But  one  morning,  two  days  before  the  Liverpool 
Cup,  Lord  Derby,  then  Lord  Stanley,  sent  a  letter 
to  me  saying  he  wanted  me  to  ride  a  mare  of  his 
in  that  race.  She  had  a  nice  light  weight,  and 
they  fancied  her  chance.  Here  was  a  dilemma  !  I 
replied  most  respectfully  that  I  had  finished  my  year's 
riding  at  Newmarket,  that  I  had  been  playing  cards 
until  very  late  at  night ;  that  I  had  been  drinking 
whiskys  and  sodas,  and  that  I  should  neither  do  myself 
justice  nor  would  it  be  right  in  his  own  interests  for  me 
to  accept  the  mount,  for  the  race  might  easily  be 
thrown  away  on  account  of  my  being  quite  out  of 
training.  I  expressed  my  deep  regret  and  thanked  his 
lordship  very  much  for  the  offer.  I  am  afraid  that 
that  letter  of  mine  gave  rise  to  considerable  misunder- 
standing. The  mare  ran  with  a  boy  on  her  back  and 
only  lost  by  a  head,  so  (although  I  say  it  myself)  it 
could  be  assumed  that  had  I  been  at  my  best  and 
riding,  she  would  have  been  first  instead  of  second. 
This  is  another  explanation  to  add  to  what  I  have 
already  said  to  Lord  Derby. 

At  the  regular  dinner  at  Newmarket  when  the  topic 
of  Codoman  was  mentioned,  the  late  Captain  Machell 
told  Mr  George  Lambton  that  he  had  already  backed 
Codoman  :   "  Sloan  has  put  me  on  33  fifties." 

Of  course  this  got  about,  even  before  the  race.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  a  lot  of  my  money  went  on  at  33  to  1, 
and  I  had  obliged  the  Captain  with  a  share.  I  may 
as  well  say  here  that  the  sum  I  should  have  cleaned 
up  had  Codoman  beaten  Berrill  was  about  sixty-six 
thousand  pounds. 

There  was  another  incident  which  happened  that 
year  and  which  I  fear  prejudiced  me.  A  member  of 
the  Jockey  Club  came  up  and  spoke  to  me  as  I  was 
going  out  to  the  paddock.     He  told  me  that  he  wanted 

i88 


THE  BLACK  OUTLOOK 

me  to  ride  a  horse  of  his  the  next  day,  and  I  answered — 
I  hope  quite  respectfully — that  if  he  would  wait  I 
would  look  at  my  book  when  I  got  back  to  the  jockeys' 
room.  Of  course  I  meant  my  engagement  diary.  He 
said  to  me  as  he  turned  away,  "  I  wait  for  no  jockey  ; 
you  won't  have  the  chance  again."  Several  times 
after  that  I  tried  to  get  an  opportunity  of  explaining  to 
him  that  it  wouldn't  have  been  right  for  me  to  accept 
the  engagement  without  making  sure  that  I  hadn't 
promised  to  ride  another  horse.  He  would  never 
listen  ;  in  fact,  he  would  not  even  allow  me  to  speak 
to  him. 

All  these  things  began  to  be  talked  about  and  thought 
about  too,  and  when  I  went  to  say  good-bye  to  Lord 
William  Beresford  at  Carlton  House  Terrace  he  said 
to  me  : 

"  Things  look  pretty  black,  little  man,  but  we  must 
hope  for  the  best."  I  answered  that  I  would  not  be 
discouraged  :  I  couldn't  believe  that  after  the  severe 
reprimand  they  had  given  me  the  Stewards  would 
actually  withhold  my  next  year's  licence.  Still  what 
Lord  William  said  naturally  made  me  think. 

I  went  over  to  America  after  three  weeks  in  London 
and  rode  in  California,  and  on  my  way  from  the  East  and 
stopping  at  Chicago  I  first  got  news  of  serious  trouble. 
I  read  in  the  papers  there  that  it  was  announced  that 
the  English  Jockey  Club  had  intimated  to  J.  T.  Sloan 
that  it  was  advisable  for  him  not  to  apply  for  his 
licence  during  that  season  of  1901. 

There  was  a  crusher  !  All  the  same  it  did  not  imply 
in  any  way  that  my  number  was  up  for  many  years  to 
come.  I  believed  that  if  I  lived  quietly  it  would  be  all 
right  in  the  following  year. 

On  getting  back  to  England  I  was  able  to  see  some  of 
the  comments  made  at  the  time  by  some  of  the  news- 

189 


TOD  SLOAN 

papers.  One  writer  in  the  leading  sporting  paper  said, 
"  Sloan  is  so  valuable  as  a  jockey  that  his  absence 
will  be  felt.  That  Sloan  only  followed  the  custom  of 
English  jockeys  in  making  the  heavy  bets  which 
formed  one  reason  for  his  exclusion  is  apparent.  With 
those  going  to  and  fro  from  the  race-course  it  came  to 
be  a  recognised  thing  that  Sloan  betted  habitually, 
and  at  times  heavily.  It  would  no  doubt  have  been 
difficult  for  a  private  person  to  have  justified  his 
opinion  by  chapter  and  verse,  but  the  Stewards  of  the 
Jockey  Club  have  means  at  their  command  for  getting 
at  the  truth  of  things  ;  in  short  they  found  that  Sloan 
has  betted,  also  that  he  had  accepted  the  offer  of  a  large 
present  from  Mr  Frank  Gardner  in  the  event  of  his 
winning  the  Cambridgeshire  on  Codoman ;  and  with 
proof  of  these  two  offences  before  them  they  acted  as 
described.  That  many  of  our  jockeys  bet  and  not 
always  in  half  sovereigns  there  is  reason  for  believing 
and  of  all  practices  against  the  letter  of  the  law  this  is 
one  which  we  can  least  afford  to  tolerate.  It  is  not  as 
if  a  jockey  always  backed  the  horse  he  is  riding,  that 
would  imply  an  assurance  that  he  would  do  his  best  to 
win,  but  unfortunately  the  money  is  at  times  on  some 
other  horse  or  against  his  own  mounts,  which  is  the 
simplest  form  of  making  winning  sure.  Proof  is  not 
always  so  easy  as  it  appears  to  have  been  in  Sloan's 
case,  and  the  firmness  displayed  by  the  Stewards  will 
engender  caution." 

I  can  swear  that  I  never  bet  on  anything  but  my 
own  mounts.  I  did  not  make  a  parade  of  it  for  obvious 
reasons  but  what  I  told  the  Stewards  was  absolutely 
correct — that  I  did  not  think  the  rules  of  English 
racing  were  against  a  jockey  supporting  anything  he 
rode  himself.  Neither  did  I  attempt  in  any  way  to 
deny  what  they  said  to  me  about  Mr  Frank  Gardner. 

190 


RIDING  GALLOPS 

Another  paper  remarked  that  "  So  many  excellent 
people  are  convinced  that  the  American  contingent 
were  playing  an  underhand  game  that  an  exhaustive 
inquiry  is  as  necessary  as  welcome." 

The  following  was  fair  comment  perhaps,  but  didn't 
do  me  any  good  :  "  I  do  not  see  anything  objectionable 
in  a  jockey  betting  on  his  mounts  so  long  as  he  backs 
a  horse  to  win,  but  Sloan  deserves  a  punishment  which 
has  been  inflicted  on  him  for  apparently  advising  Mr 
F.  Gardner  to  back  Codoman  for  the  Cambridgeshire 
and  accepting  the  offer  of  a  large  sum  from  that  gentle- 
man if  the  tip  came  off.  This  kind  of  interference  with 
another  man's  horse  is  highly  objectionable,  and  the 
Stewards  are  very  properly  resolved  to  stop  such  trans- 
actions. Jockeys  will  not  in  future  be  disposed  to 
accept  gifts  from  outsiders,  but  at  one  time  such 
presents  were  daily  offered  and  accepted  and  fashion- 
able riders  did  not  disdain  to  receive  them  from 
notorious  sharps.  The  possibility  of  Sloan's  return  to 
official  favour  in  England  is  recognised  in  the  following 
extract  :  '  He  had  better  apply  himself  to  the  correc- 
tion and  reformation  of  his  manners  and  excesses,  and 
possibly  he  may  get  another  licence  in  1902  if  he  con- 
ducts himself  discreetly  during  the  next  year.'  " 

The  best  thing  to  do  was  a  difficult  thing  to  make 
up  one's  mind  about.  I  was  torn  two  ways :  I  had 
money  and  had  an  inclination  towards  a  long  holiday  ; 
yet  I  went  to  Newmarket,  rode  gallops  (which  I  was 
allowed  to  do)  and  generally  kept  myself  to  myself, 
in  the  hope  that  the  Stewards  would  relent,  if  not  in 
that  season  of  1901,  at  all  events  when  the  applications 
came  up  for  the  following  year. 

I  contracted  the  craze  for  motoring  and  in  the 
summer  went  over  to  France  and  was  a  good  deal  about 
with  Henri  Fournier,  who  it  will  be  remembered  had 

191 


TOD   SLOAN 

been  a  champion  driver,  winning  among  other  prizes 
the  Paris-Bordeaux  race,  the  Paris-Berhn,  and  the 
Paris- Vienna.  We  had  several  quite  long  runs,  and 
then  we  paid  a  visit  to  Deauville,  where  of  course  there 
was  gambHng  at  the  club — I  had  always  been  used  to 
playing,  as  previous  chapters  will  show,  and  I  did 
not  see  any  reason  why  I  shouldn't  continue.  Neither 
did  I  see  why  they  wouldn't  let  me  shoot  pigeons  at 
Deauville,  but  there  was  some  objection  raised  on  the 
ground  that  I  didn't  belong  to  any  regular  club,  which 
apparently  was  necessary  to  get  me  among  those  at  the 

traps. 

I  had  several  little  set-backs  of  this  kind  which  made 
life  a  little  bit  dull  at  times.  I  used  to  debate  with 
myself  whether  to  go  back  to  England  or  not,  but 
decided  eventually  that  France  was  better  for  the 
moment.  There  I  should  not  annoy  anybody,  and  I 
was  not  doing  any  harm  in  being  adviser  to  an  owner, 
for  I  was  allowed  to  ride  and  work  in  a  stable  but  not 
on  a  race-course — ^that  is  to  say,  I  was  forbidden  to  race 
in  colours.  I  met  various  people  that  summer  and  early 
autumn,  and  Lord  Carnarvon  was  good  enough  to 
consult  me  several  times  with  regard  to  French  horses. 
This  led  to  the  purchase  of  a  few  horses,  including 
Mauvezin,  and  the  engagement  of  "  Boots  "  Dumell 
already  mentioned.  Things  were  going  fairly  well 
and  I  was  keeping  my  form.  M.  Charron  was  very 
interested  in  learning  race  riding,  so  that  he  could 
figure  with  other  amateur  jockeys.  He  too  had  been 
a  crack  automobilist,  having  won  the  Gordon-Bennett 
Cup,  but  nothing  would  content  him  until  he  learned 
how  to  ride  with  the  forward  seat,  in  fact  in  my  own 
style.  I  began  to  show  him  what  to  do  and  he  was  a 
very  apt  pupil. 

It  was  at  Deauville  that  I  formed  the  idea  of  going 

192 


LOSING  £20,000 

to  America  and  taking  Fournier  with  me  with  the 
intention  of  starting  a  big  automobile  business.  We 
sailed  about  the  middle  of  August,  taking  with  us 
two  big  INIors  racers,  one  of  which  cost  me  fifty-five 
thousand  francs.  There  were  also  three  other  cars, 
one  a  small  one,  which  had  won  the  Paris-Bordeaux 
run.  At  the  time  I  possessed  sixty-two  thousand 
pounds  in  ready  money,  in  addition  to  the  investments 
I  had  made  in  real  estate  in  America,  so  it  was  a  serious 
proposition  this  automobile  idea.  The  plan  was  to 
get  a  company  together  and  I  was  prepared  to  invest 
a  great  part  of  my  own  money.  Altogether  to  begin 
with  there  were  fifty  thousand  dollars  invested  in  cars, 
which  were  to  be  used  as  models  in  starting  the 
factory. 

That  trip  was  destined  to  be  a  disaster.  In  less 
than  a  month  I  lost  altogether  about  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars  or  twenty  thousand  pounds.  For  a 
commencement,  there  was  forty-five  per  cent,  duty 
to  be  paid  on  the  cars,  and  then  Fournier  w^as  fined 
heavily,  a  sum  of  seven  thousand  dollars  (which  I  paid), 
for  undervaluating  one  of  the  cars  with  the  customs. 
They  said  that  if  one  car  cost  fifty-five  thousand  francs 
why  didn't  its  fellow  ?  But  the  latter  was  sold  to 
Fournier  at  a  big  discount,  because  he  had  already 
driven  it.  It  actually  cost  only  thirty-five  thousand. 
It  was  a  good  start-off. 

Then  I  went  racing  and  managed  to  lose  thirty-one 
thousand  dollars  in  one  day,  and  I  also  lost  a  packet 
at  cards. 

The  few  horses  at  Maisons  Laffitte  had  been  left  in 
the  charge  of  "  Boots  "  Durnell,  whose  great  idea  was 
that  he  could  ride,  whereas  he  couldn't.  He  was  a 
great  man  in  the  stable  for  all  that. 

One  evening  I  actually  refused  ten  thousand  dollars 

N  193 


TOD  SLOAN 

which  was  definitely  offered  for  one  of  the  cars.  I 
would  have  sold  it  but  Fournier  dissuaded  me  : 
"  What's  the  good  of  parting  with  it  ?  We  shall  only 
have  to  send  to  France  for  another  as  a  model  to  work 
from." 

There  alone  was  lost  two  thousand  pounds  which 
might  have  come  to  me  out  of  the  wreck.  Ultimately 
it  was  pawned  and  I  never  saw  a  dollar  of  its  value. 

To  make  a  long  story  short  I  never  for  one  cause  or 
another  enjoyed  so  much  as  a  wheel  of  those  automo- 
biles. For  instance  one  was  smashed  up  by  Fournier 
who  was  showing  a  party  of  newspaper  men  how  he 
could  race  a  locomotive  and  who  got  it  on  a  level- 
crossing.  The  car  and  the  train  met.  Fortunately 
no  one  was  killed. 

The  cause  of  my  going  back  to  Europe  was  that  one 
morning  I  got  a  cable  from  Mr  Felix  Oppenheim  : 
"  Come  at  once  Durnell  warned  off."  I  took  ship 
immediately  and  discovered  on  arrival  that  Durnell, 
insisting  on  riding  when  I  had  repeatedly  told  him  not 
to,  had  actually  been  put  on  foot  for  incompetency. 
He  had  been  left  at  the  post  or  something  and  the 
Stewards  took  a  serious  view  of  it.  I  am  quite  sure 
he  meant  nothing  wrong  and  it  was  only  his  vanity 
in  thinking  he  was  a  jockey  which  brought  it  all  about. 
The  results  had  to  be  put  up  with  though  and  I  had  to 
see  about  looking  after  the  horses  for  their  autumn 
engagements.  They  belonged  to  Charron,  Baron 
Leonino,  Felix  Oppenheim,  Lord  Carnarvon  and  Mr 
Debsay.  We  had  only  paid  eleven  thousand  francs 
for  Mauvezin,  Charron  and  I  going  halves  in  him.  I 
wrote  to  Lord  Carnarvon  telling  him  I  had  a  good 
horse  and  he  had  better  come  and  see  him.  When  we 
bought  him  we  were  told  that  he  couldn't  stay  more 
than  five  furlongs,  but  the  improvement  made  in  him 

194 


SALE  OF  IMAUVEZIN 

was  wonderful.  Lord  Carnarvon  said  he  would  take 
him  off  our  hands  if  we  would  let  him,  and  wrote  a 
cheque  there  and  then  for  eleven  thousand  francs. 
That  was  about  two  months  before,  when  I  had  first 
brought  over  Durnell  to  France.  We  won  six  straight 
races  with  him,  winning  a  big  handicap  at  Maisons 
Lafiitte,  the  horse  carrying  top  weight.  I  may  as  well 
finish  about  Mauvezin  here.  When  he  had  got  to  the 
top  of  the  handicap  he  was  no  longer  much  use  in 
France,  so  he  went  over  to  R.  C.  Dawson's  place  at 
Wliatcombe. 

I  shall  always  think  we  ought  to  have  won  the 
Lincolnshire  Handicap,  but  he  didn't  get  too  well  away 
and  nearly  fell  at  the  crossing  when  half-way  home. 

It  was  curious  how  several  of  us  missed  winning  a 
packet  over  the  horse  when  he  took  the  Stewards'  Cup. 
I  had  miscalculated  the  day,  and  was  at  the  Hotel 
Cecil  about  half-past  twelve  on  the  Tuesday  with 
Mr  Murray  Griffith,  who  had  always  been  a  good  friend 
to  me.  I  told  him  of  the  chance  of  Mauvezin  and 
that  I  was  going  down  to  Goodwood  to  put  a  lot  of 
money  on  him.     He  looked  up  at  the  clock  : 

"  You  will  have  to  hurry  up  to  be  there  even  three 
hours  after  the  race  is  run  ;  they'll  be  off  in  about  two 
hours." 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  grin  and  bear  it,  but 
we  got  busy  with  the  starting  price  offices  and  managed 
one  way  and  the  other  to  get  on  one  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds,  which  wasn't  so  bad  in  the  circumstances, 
for  he  started  at  10  to  1.  I  was  glad  that  Lord 
Carnarvon  won  a  big  stake  over  the  success.  I  don't 
suppose  anyone  ever  had  such  a  bargain  for  four 
hundred  and  forty  pounds. 

Another  horse  Lord  Carnarvon  bought  in  France 
was  Londres,  a  great  big  animal  over  seventeen  hands 

195 


TOD  SLOAN 

high,  who  was  addicted  to  breaking  blood  vessels,  but 
he  never  did  so  after  he  came  with  us,  and  scored  over 
and  over  again.  He  ought  to  have  won  the  Grand 
Prix  de  Nice  but  somehow  Maclntyre  who  rode  him 
was  not  in  happy  mood  that  day.  He  led  all  the  way 
until  on  the  post  he  was  just  caught  by  a  good  horse, 
Retz,  ridden  by  George  Stem.  Another  nice  horse 
was  Misadventure,  for  whom  we  paid  five  thousand 
francs  and  sold  for  twenty  thousand  francs.  Londres 
was  also  a  great  bargain  at  seven  thousand  francs. 

I  must  not  forget  that  there  was  some  compensation 
for  the  disappointment  over  Goodwood.  A  French- 
man had  come  over  with  me,  a  man  well  known  in 
Paris,  who  couldn't  speak  a  word  of  English.  Perched 
on  the  top  of  his  head  was  the  smallest  Panama  hat 
ever  worn  by  a  grown-up  man.  He  was  the  success 
on  the  Wednesday  afternoon  at  Goodwood.  Society 
people  and  others  forgot  their  manners  and  came  to 
the  paddock  to  see  the  sight.     It  was  great  value. 

Of  course  in  that  Autumn  of  1901  I  had  seriously  to 
consider  what  was  to  be  done  after  the  big  losses  I  had 
made  in  America,  but  acquiring  these  bargains  in 
horses  and  winning  money  over  them  too  brought  me 
to  the  conclusion  that  sticking  to  my  own  business — 
horses — was  perhaps  far  and  away  the  best  thing  to 
do.  We  had  Max  Lebaudy's  old  house  at  Maisons 
Laffitte,  and  there  used  to  be  great  consultations  about 
probable  purchases  and  how  they  should  be  placed  to 
win.  Several  of  my  friends  suggested  that  I  should 
go  on  with  ownership  and  superintend  training,  and 
certainly  I  knew  in  riding  gallops  that  I  hadn't  lost  a 
bit  of  form. 

Not  a  word  had  been  said  about  my  not  getting  a 
licence  for  the  following  year,  so  I  stuck  on  full  of  hope 
that  the  Stewards  would  not  keep  the  bar  up  for  ever. 

196 


LORD  HARE  WOOD'S  ADVICE 

After  the  season  finished  in  France  I  went  to  Egypt 
with  Skeets  Martin  and  had  the  usual  tourist's  hoHday. 
I  suppose  my  impressions  about  Egypt  are  not  worth 
anything  but  I  am  going  to  say  that  to  me  the  place 
was  the  greatest  disappointment — but  perhaps  that 
was  my  own  want  of  appreciation.  I  often  wished 
that  we  had  chosen  Switzerland  or  Monte  Carlo,  in  fact 
anywhere  else. 

In  the  month  of  February  no  official  intimation  had 
reached  me  but  I  heard  indirectly  that  there  was  a 
grave  doubt  about  the  licence  ;  this  was  when  I  w^ent 
to  England  in  the  early  spring.  One  day  in  the 
paddock  at  Newmarket  Lord  Harewood  said  to  me : 
"  Sloan,  what  do  you  want  to  bother  about  riding  for  ? 
You've  got  plenty  of  money.  Why  don't  you  settle 
down  to  a  gentleman's  life  ?  Buy  a  stable  of  horses 
and  run  them.  That's  far  and  away  the  best  thing 
you  can  do." 

Of  course  I  thought  it  over  but  still  I  couldn't  bring 
myself  to  believe  that  they  would  keep  me  out  all  the 
season.  If  I  had  known  then  what  I  learnt  in  after 
years,  that  my  indiscretions  were  to  be  reckoned 
against  me  for  half  some  people's  lifetime,  the  whole 
course  of  my  life  and  investments  would  have  been 
different.  With  sixty  thousand  pounds  odd  and  other 
property  I  might  have  done  really  well,  but  frankly  I 
felt  that  other  sources  of  income  would  be  open  to 
me  very  shortly  so  I  was  careless  about  that  useful 
amount.     How  I  cursed  that  trip  to  America  ! 

At  Newmarket  in  the  spring  of  1902  I  had  rooms 
near  the  station.  They  were  very  handy  for  going 
out  and  riding  gallops.  Most  of  these  I  did  for  Robert 
Sherwood  of  St  Gatien  House,  and  I  never  felt  better 
in  my  life.  Then  I  began  to  notice  that  a  few  New- 
market trainers  had  developed  a  rather  cool  manner 

197 


TOD  SLOAN 

toward  me.  They  did  not  seem  to  know  whether  they 
were  in  order  if  they  put  me  up  in  a  trial  or  rough  up. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  as  I  have  explained,  there  was 
nothing  against  my  taking  part  in  anything  of  the 
kind,  for  the  Stew^ards  had  said  that  I  could  do  so. 
Well,  I  went  on  trying  my  best  by  every  possible 
means  to  reinstate  myself  in  favour  and  at  that  time 
I  had  become  more  accustomed  to  Newmarket  than 
at  any  previous  period. 

Several  times  I  was  inclined  to  take  the  friendly  tip 
given  me  by  Lord  Harewood  and  definitely  to  give  up 
any  idea  of  riding  again  and  to  settle  down  as  an  owner. 
Possibly  I  should  have  got  a  licence  to  train  my  own 
animals.  But  I  was  only  about  twenty-seven  years 
old  and  was  sure  that  I  could  ride  as  well  or  better 
than  ever,  and  the  money  to  be  made  as  a  jockey  was 
far  in  excess  of  anything  it  was  possible  to  make  with 
any  stable  I  could  set  up.  Then  too  I  was  occasion- 
ally possessed  by  the  spirit  of  roving  or  travel.  Should 
I  go  away  again  ?  I  had  been  here,  there  and  every- 
where. It  was  not  pleasant,  however,  to  give  up 
racing  under  the  stigma  that  I  had  to  retire  without  a 
jockey's  licence.  If  a  licence  had  only  been  procur- 
able, I  do  believe  on  looking  back  that  I  should  have 
been  quite  willing  to  give  an  undertaking  not  to  avail 
myself  of  it ! 

The  majority  of  my  friends  stuck  to  me  through  all 
this  and  that  cheered  me  more  than  can  be  said.  But 
they  were  not  really  happy  days.  The  more  inquiries 
were  made  as  to  the  possibility  of  getting  my  ticket 
back  again  the  more  undecided  seemed  the  situation. 
It  was  a  sickening  business  too  when  in  London  having 
to  reply  to  all  sorts  of  people — some  of  whom  I  had 
scarcely  ever  met — as  to  what  I  was  going  to  do.  The 
truth  was,  I  didn't  know,  and  I  felt  rather  inclined  to 

198 


THROES  OF  UNREST 

give  rough  answers  when  quite  strangers,  especially 
Americans,  became  too  inquisitive.  Some  presumed 
on  a  casual  chat  to  ask  me  to  tell  the  whole  story  over 
again.  To  begin  with  I  couldn't  have  done  so,  for  it 
was  a  whole  combination  of  circumstances,  as  I  have 
explained,  which  led  up  to  the  action  the  Stewards  took. 

The  number  of  nights  which  were  spent  trying  to 
make  up  my  mind  I  can't  count,  but  plans  made  when 
lying  awake  were  quite  upset  by  a  few  words  of  en- 
couragement the  next  day  given  by  serious  friends  who 
knew  I  supposed  what  they  were  talking  about. 

I  do  not  know  whether  this  is  all  sufficiently  clear, 
but  the  only  way  I  can  describe  it  is  that,  what  with 
hope  and  fear,  in  1902  I  was  going  through  H-E-L-L. 


199 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

NABOT 

The  Late  King  Leopold— All  from  Five  Francs— Off  to  shoot  Pigeons 

After  passing  through  several  weeks  of  the  spring  of 
1902  in  England  I  could  see  no  reason  for  stopping  on 
there,  and  I  went  back  to  France  and  spent  my  time 
giving  advice  and  helping  in  the  running  of  horses 
owned  by  Charron.  But  there  was  no  money  in  it  and 
losses  over  betting  accumulated  until  I  really  had  some 
cause  for  worry.  Nevertheless,  a  good  day  would  put 
me  in  heart  again,  and  during  the  important  weeks  in 
England  I  had  a  few  really  profitable  days  and  my 
banking  account  was  by  no  means  exhausted.  In 
July  I  bought  a  big  90-horse  power  Panhard  for  two 
thousand  pounds,  and  also  a  smaller  Mors  car  of  15  h.p. 
Pinson,  who  had  been  the  mechanic  during  the  Paris- 
Vienna  race  which  this  big  power  car  had  won,  was 
my  chauffeur  although  I  usually  drove  the  bigger  car 
myself.  I  took  both  cars  to  Deauville  and  Dieppe 
for  their  seasons  in  August. 

The  expenses  were  very  heavy,  for  at  the  Hotel  de 
Paris  at  Trouville — which  little  town  of  course  every- 
one knows  adjoins  Deauville — nothing  else  would  do 
for  me  but  the  best  suite  in  the  house.  Tliere  were 
"  others  "  to  pay  for,  including  a  valet,  the  chauffeur 
and  other  servants.  The  expenses  totted  up  to  a 
very  big  amount.  However,  I  suppose  when  we  are 
gambling  we  do  not  pay  much  attention  to  a  little 
matter  like  daily  expenses.     I  have  been  to  a  good 

200 


THE  LATE  KING  LEOPOLD 

many  places,  however,  and  not  spent  so  much 
money. 

This  reminds  me  of  when  I  was  once  at  the  Grand 
Union  Hotel  at  Saratoga  for  the  races.  I  had  got 
my  apartment  before  the  season  began.  Mr  August 
Belmont  arrived  and  made  a  little  fuss  about  paying 
twenty-five  dollars  a  day  for  his  room  or  rooms,  but 
the  manager,  much  to  my  disgust  as  I  didn't  want  to 
be  too  much  in  the  limelight,  said  :  "  Oh  no,  sir,  I  assure 
you  I  am  not  asking  too  much,  especially  to  a  gentle- 
man of  your  position,  for  Mr  Tod  Sloan  is  paying  more 
than  twenty-five  dollars  a  day." 

It  was  at  Trouville  that  I  had  the  honour  of  being 
spoken  to  several  times  by  the  late  King  Leopold  of 
the  Belgians.  He  had  the  next  table  to  ours  and  would 
speak  across  to  me  about  various  topics.  He  never 
said  much,  but  it  was  all  in  a  kindly  way  and  he  never 
failed  to  recognise  me,  whoever  he  was  with.  There 
was  another  stupid  story  put  in  circulation  at  Trouville 
which  found  its  way  over  to  the  American  papers.  It 
was  a  pure  invention  but  it  told,  unintentionally 
perhaps,  to  my  discredit.  Beyond  question  I  had 
one  of  the  best  tables  in  the  big  restaurant  at  the 
Hotel  de  Paris  and  some  American  journalist  told  a 
yarn  that  King  Leopold  had  gone  to  the  hotel  manager 
requesting  that  a  certain  table,  meaning  mine,  should 
be  reserved  for  him.  The  manager  was  made  to  reply  : 
"  I  am  very  sorry,  your  Majesty,  and  I  hope  you  will  in 
your  kindness  accept  my  apology,  but  I  let  that  table 
that  you  want  to  Mr  Tod  Sloan  and  I  cannot  turn  him 
out." 

It  was  a  stupid  story  to  invent,  but  many  people 
who  did  not  like  me  began  to  repeat  it,  making  me 
out  what  I  really  wasn't.  I  should  like  to  see  any 
hotel  manager  refusing  the  request  of  such  a  guest  as 

201 


TOD  SLOAN 

King  Leopold !  Besides  I  was  not  quite  so  far  gone 
that  I  would  not  have  given  up  any  table  to  even  a  less 
distinguished  personage. 

Well,  Trouville  had  its  joys  and  sorrows,  the  former 
being  the  social  part  of  it.  There  were  bad  runs  at  the 
races  and  in  the  "  bank  "  at  the  club  of  the  Casino. 
The  gambling  habit  I  could  not  cure  myself  of  :  in 
fact  a  distraction  of  this  kind  became  almost  a  necessity 
to  me,  for  the  fact  of  being  without  any  licence  was 
telling  more  and  more  heavily  on  me.  It  seemed  so 
terrible  that,  although  I  had  just  as  much  confidence  in 
myself  as  ever,  I  was  debarred  from  making  my  living 
at  the  one  thing  I  was  good  at.  Motoring  about  the 
country  was  pleasant  enough  and  I  made  new  friends, 
but  it  was  all  rather  aimless  and  it  was  a  welcome  break 
to  get  away  to  Dieppe  for  a  week  or  ten  days  there. 
We  all  motored  of  course. 

It  was  at  Dieppe  that  I  had  rather  wonderful 
experience  of  good  and  bad  luck.  One  evening  with 
about  eighteen  thousand  francs  in  my  pocket  I  joined 
in  a  baccarat  bank  with  Mr  "  Solly  "  Joel  and  Mr 
Henning.  In  about  an  hour  and  a  half  we  cleared  over 
one  thousand  pounds  each.  Wlien  we  had  cut  it  up 
Mr  Joel  and  Mr  Henning  went  off  to  the  DoriSt  the 
former's  yacht,  but  like  a  fool  I  stayed  on  and,  not 
content  with  my  winnings,  of  course  I  had  to  join  in  the 
bank  again.  And  I  lost  every  cent  both  of  the  one 
thousand  pounds  and  of  the  seven  hundred  pounds  odd 
with  which,  as  I  have  explained,  I  began  the  evening. 
I  got  up  from  the  table  feeling  pretty  sick  and  went 
and  had  a  drink.  Feeling  in  my  pocket  I  found  I  had 
exactly  seven  francs.  One  franc  paid  for  the  brandy 
I  was  drinking  ;  a  franc  I  put  aside  for  the  cloakroom 
attendant.  I  was  determined  to  go  home  without  a 
sou,  so  I  put  the  remaining  five-franc  piece  on  the 

202 


ALL  FROM  FIVE  FRANCS 

gaming-table  as  I  went  out,  intending  to  throw  it  away 
and  not  to  think  anything  more  of  it.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  I  didn't  see  the  first  coup,  but  on  looking  round 
saw  that  there  were  two  "  cartwheels  "  where  I  had 
only  thrown  one.  I  determined  to  leave  them  and  the 
stake  went  on  doubling  up  until  there  were  eight  louis 
or  one  hundred  and  sixty  francs.  Of  these  I  left  five, 
taking  off  three  for  odd  expenses.  Again  I  won,  and 
yet  again,  but  the  second  time  at  another  table. 
Then  of  course  I  had  enough  to  join  in  a  small 
bank  again.  In  another  hour  I  had  cashed  in 
twenty-seven  thousand  francs,  which  left  me  again 
a  good  winner  on  the  evening.  It  was  a  remark- 
able performance  and  rivals  many  of  the  yarns  one 
hears  about  gamblers'  luck,  for  it  all  came  from  that 
five  francs.  If  when  I  was  having  my  brandy  I  had 
met  a  friend  or  two  I  dare  say  I  should  have  offered 
them  drinks  and  my  five  francs  would  have  gone. 
But  such  was  my  luck  that  I  was  left  to  drink  alone  ! 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  that  year  that  I  had  a  great 
deal  to  do  with  the  preparation  of  the  Count  de 
Bresson's  grey  horse  Nabot.  He  was  in  the  Cam- 
bridgeshire with  7  stone.  Nabot  was  then  a  three-year- 
old  and  one  of  the  fastest  I  had  ever  come  across.  It 
had  not  been  discovered  whether  he  could  stay  well 
enough,  but  one  morning  I  gave  him  a  fast  gallop 
over  a  mile,  in  which  he  came  out  well.  It  was  there- 
fore determined  that  Nabot  should  be  sent  to  New- 
market. He  was  at  a  real  good  price.  In  fact  he 
started  at  20  to  1  owing  to  the  run  on  the  eventual 
winner,  Ballantrae.  Although  the  latter  won  com- 
fortably I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  Nabot 
should  have  done  so.  His  jockey,  an  American  boy 
named  Thompson,  riding  in  France,  didn't  know  the 
course  well  enough.     In  consequence  the  grey  could 

203 


TOD  SLOAN 

only  finish  third.  We  backed  him  to  win  a  fortune  but 
as  luck  would  have  it  some  of  us  quit  good  winners  by 
having  as  much  on  for  a  place  as  to  win.  So  it  was  not 
altogether  a  failure. 

It  is  curious  what  a  fateful  race  the  Cambridgeshire 
has  been  to  me.  First  St  Cloud  II. ;  then  I  was  left 
on  Nunsuch;  the  Codoman  trouble;  and  then  just 
missing  first  place  with  Nabot  when  it  was  so  import- 
ant to  me.  I  have  no  doubt  what  I  have  said  about 
the  French  horse  may  be  quarrelled  with  by  many 
English  critics,  but  personally  I  was  never  so  sure 
about  anything  as  his  winning.  I  am  not  excusing 
myself  in  the  matter  for  I  didn't  ride  him.  However, 
it  is  no  use  thinking  too  much  about  it.  It  is  so  long 
ago. 

As  may  be  remembered  Nabot  was  bought  for  two 
thousand  guineas,  if  I  remember  rightly,  by  Sir  John 
Blundell  Maple.  Sir  John  came  to  me  in  the  paddock 
in  Newmarket  and  asked  whether  I  thought  him  a  nice 
horse  to  buy.  Of  course  I  said  yes.  He  also  asked 
whether  the  horse  had  been  doped,  and  I  answered 
that  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  the  horse  had  never 
been  given  anything  in  his  racing  career.  There  were 
a  good  many  stories  about  at  the  time  as  to  doping, 
and  I  believe  poor  Alec  Waugh,  who  managed  Sir  J.  B. 
Maple's  horses,  was  firmly  convinced  that  Nabot 
had  been,  and  thought  his  owner  had  a  very  dear 
bargain. 

I  should  like  to  say  another  word  about  Thompson. 
He  was  a  very  good  rider  in  France  but  he  never 
seemed  to  give  his  best  performances  in  England. 
Certainly  he  won  the  City  and  Suburban  in  1903  on 
Brambilla,  but  I  think  Robert  Denman,  who  trained 
Mr  Edmond  Blanc's  Vinicius  (second  to  Rock  Sand  in 
1903),  was  one  of  the  most  disappointed  men  at  Epsom 

204 


OFF  TO  SHOOT  PIGEONS 

that  day.    Still  full  credit  should  be  given  to  the  jockey 
for  his  French  performances. 

I  hung  on  in  France  to  the  end  of  the  racing  season 
but  then  I  went  down  to  Monte  Carlo,  chiefly  on 
account  of  the  pigeon-shooting. 


205 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

AT    THE   TRAPS 

Cleaning  up  100,000  Francs — Laying  and  Backing — Various  Good  Shots 

I  HAD  the  taste  for  firearms  even  when  a  very  young 
boy.  I  used  to  fire  off  a  gun,  a  small  single-barrelled 
muzzle-loader,  when  I  was  about  ten  years  old,  and 
then,  proceeding  by  easy  stages,  shooting  at  rabbits, 
squirrels,  and  birds,  until  when  I  was  about  thirteen 
I  managed  to  get  hold  of  a  great  purchase,  a  very  tiny 
double-barrelled  breech-loader  which  nevertheless  did 
quite  good  work.  My  eye  became  trained  and  I  began 
to  think  that  eventually  something  much  greater  could 
be  done.  But  I  knew  little  or  nothing  about  pigeon- 
shooting,  never  even  having  seen  a  picture  of  it. 

Going  along  from  year  to  year  there  was  always 
plenty  of  sport  to  be  had  especially  during  the  winters 
out  in  California,  but  it  wasn't  until  the  winter  of  1900 
that  I  had  my  first  go  at  the  traps.  All  things  con- 
sidered the  result  was  quite  good,  and  I  acquired  the 
taste.  It  has  never  been  shaken  off  since.  I  had 
other  chances  of  practice  but  my  big  pigeon-shooting 
season  was  to  be  in  those  early  days  of  1903  in  that  trip 
to  Monte  Carlo.  I  won  the  Grand  Prix  du  Littoral  of 
ten  thousand  francs,  and  a  big  gold  medal,  killing 
thirteen  birds  out  of  thirteen. 

It  was  rather  curious  how  I  got  into  that  prize. 
I  went  down  to  make  my  entry  and  things  having 
gone  badly  at  the  tables  I  discovered  I  hadn't  got 
twenty    francs    in    my    pocket.     I    met    Crittenden 

206 


X   -^^ 


"^ 


<i. 


z   '^ 


I:::;    'o 


CLEANING  UP  100,000  FRANCS 

Robinson — the  great  shot — ^and  said  to  him  :  "  Got  any 
money  ?  " 

He  gave  me  his  pocket-book  saying :  "Help  yourself," 
but  I  only  took  the  two  hundred  francs  that  I  wanted 
to  pay  for  the  entries.  Coming  off  the  ground  I  met 
George  Cooper,  who  was  making  a  book  on  the  event. 
I  took  50  to  1  from  him  to  ten  louis  about  myself. 

Before  going  into  the  story  of  how  I  won  I  should 
like  to  say  that  fortune  never  comes  singlehanded,  for 
with  a  little  money  I  went  to  the  rooms  that  evening 
and,  starting  off  with  three  straight  roulette  bets,  w^ent 
back  to  the  Hermitage  Hotel  that  night  and  locked  up 
with  the  cashier  a  hundred  thousand  francs.  Every 
word  of  this  is  literally  correct.  I  had  no  money  at  all 
before — nothing  but  jewellery. 

The  runners  up  to  me  in  the  Prix  du  Littoral  were 
Count  Filippi  and  M.  Brasseur  with  twelve  out  of 
thirteen.  Tliere  were  sixty-three  guns  altogether. 
When  I  had  shot  my  tenth  bird  overtures  were  made 
to  me  to  divide,  one  French  shooter  saying  that  I  could 
have  half  the  pool  but  that  one  of  their  division  w^ould 
have  to  take  the  medal.  Several  Englishmen  present 
who  knew  about  this  came  to  me  and  said :  "  You're 
the  only  English-speaking  one  left  in  the  event,  go 
right  through  with  it.  Don't  give  them  a  chance  of 
thinking  they  can  beat  you  !  "  And  go  through  with 
it  I  did,  with  the  result  already  known.  There  were 
many  little  expenses  in  connection  with  that  prize. 
For  instance,  fifty  francs  to  the  man  who  picked  up 
the  last  bird  I  had  shot,  and  a  bill  that  night  of 
one  thousand  four  hundred  francs  for  dinner.  They 
seemed  to  have  a  bottle  of  champagne  to  each  person 
with  each  course,  and  the  out-of-season  things  some  of 
them  asked  for  and  managed  to  get  surprised  even 
those  who  knew  Monte  Carlo  pretty  well.     Of  course 

207 


TOD  SLOAN 

too  there  were  little  presents  to  "  others."  Two  ladies 
claimed  the  wings  of  that  last  pigeon  between  them, 
and  each  wing  had  to  be  mounted  on  a  hat  to  suit  the 
wearers — but  that  was  a  trifle. 

On  going  into  the  Rooms  the  night  of  winning  the 
Prix  du  Littoral  I  was  given  a  message  to  go  over  to 
the  Trente  et  Quarante  game  to  cut  the  cards  for  "  an 
eminent  personage."  I  said  I  wouldn't  go  unless  I 
knew  who  it  was. 

"  You  had  better  come,  monsieur  :  it's  the  Grand 
Duke  Michael." 

"  Wlio  ?  "  I  asked,  not  hearing  very  well,  and  then 
he  repeated  the  name  and  of  course  I  went  at  once. 
The  Grand  Duke  received  me  very  graciously  and  said 
some  nice  things  to  which  I  hope  I  replied  with  proper 
modesty.  Here  was  another  Royal  or  rather  Imperial 
personality  for  me  to  meet. 

I  shall  alwavs  think  it  rather  bad  luck  that  I  missed 
a  "  place  "  in  the  Grand  Prix  du  Casino  that  was 
decided  a  few  weeks  before.  There  was  a  bit  of  a 
wrangle  over  the  ninth  bird  by  Baron  de  Lossy.  (He 
is  dead  now,  God  bless  him  !)  He  called  me  down  for 
crying  "  No  bird."  But  I  was  quite  right  and  Lord 
Savile  came  to  my  rescue  by  declaring  :  "  Wliatever  is 
said  he'll  have  another  bird  at  all  events."  All  this 
trouble,  which  was  quite  unjustifiable,  as  very  many 
who  shot  in  the  event  can  testify  to-day,  made  me 
very  nervous,  for  before  it  occurred  I  had  absolute 
confidence  in  myself  and  was  shooting  in  great  form. 
"Wlien  I  had  my  tenth  bird  it  was  not  unnatural  that  I 
was  a  bit  shaky  but  I  just  dragged  it  down.  There 
were  very  few  left  in  and  I  killed  the  eleventh  bird  in 
clean  style.  Then  came  the  twelfth.  I  had  recovered 
my  nerve  by  this  time  and  was  almost  certain  that  I 
had  notched  another  point,  but  it  just  fell  on  to  the 

208 


LAYING  AND  BACKING 

top  of  the  rail  and  into  the  sea  instead  of  dropping  on 
the  right  side.  I  had  killed  eRven  out  of  twelve,  and 
with  any  ordinary  luck  I  should  have  had  the  twelfth. 
It  may  be  remembered  that  the  winner  was  Pellier 
Johnston  with  nineteen  birds  straight,  Mackintosh 
being  second  with  eighteen  out  of  nineteen,  two 
others  tying  for  the  third  place  with  seventeen  out 
of  eighteen  ;  then  several  of  us  were  level  with  eleven 
out  of  twelve. 

I  was  shooting  with  a  gun  I  had  bought  for  two 
hundred  pounds  in  Bond  Street,  London,  and  my 
success  spoke  well  for  the  cartridges  made  by  the 
Coopal  Company  of  Belgium. 

There  were  other  bits  of  money  picked  up  that 
season  by  shooting  at  Monte  Carlo.  Thiebaux  was  the 
biggest  layer,  and  I  suppose  George  Cooper  of  the 
English  division  made  some  of  the  biggest  bets. 
Charlie  Hannam  mixed  it,  some  days  laying  and  other 
days  backing.  I  should  like  to  have  all  the  money 
which  he  has  lost  over  pigeon-shooting  in  one  way  and 
the  other  ;  still,  it  is  all  part  of  his  winter  holiday  so  I 
suppose  he  doesn't  mind  ! 

Various  little  things  annoyed  me  that  winter,  but  it 
was  very  likely  because  I  was  over-sensitive  after  what 
had  occurred  in  England. 

Certainly  the  English  lot  were  very  nice  and  sym- 
pathetic but  many  of  the  Frenchmen  and  Italians 
seemed  to  go  on  the  lines  that  I  hadn't  received  my 
licence  from  the  English  Jockey  Club,  and  although 
they  were  outwardly  polite  they  were  inclined  to  be 
snubby.  If  I  had  the  money  to  go  in  it  wasn't  their 
business  of  course,  for  by  this  time  I  wasn't  a  jockey 
but  a  private  citizen  with  a  certain  reserve  of  assets, 
and  in  any  case  I  was  not  a  professional  pigeon-shot 
as  many  of  those  were  to  whom  the  French  and 
o  209 


TOD  SLOAN 

Italians  were  civil.  Still  it  didn't  matter  much.  I 
had  my  own  bunch  to  talk  to  and  was  having  a  good 
time  anyway. 

I  was  continually  impressed  with  the  different 
personalities  shooting  at  Monte  Carlo.  I  should  say 
the  majority  who  read  this  book  will  know  of  Mackin- 
tosh, the  Australian,  and  Crittenden  Robinson,  the 
Californian ;  the  former  was  I  suppose  the  more 
brilliant  shot  but  Robinson  had  that  extra  stamina 
which  would  last  him  out  in  a  tough  battle,  and  he  was 
an  older  man  too.  He  used  to  give  me  many  tips. 
That  season  Mackintosh  shot  eight  hundred  and  forty- 
six  pigeons  out  of  nine  hundred  and  ninety,  while 
Robinson  had  a  score  of  eight  hundred  and  eighty-five 
out  of  one  thousand  and  sixty-four.  The  winner  of 
the  Grand  Prix  du  Casino,  Pellier  Johnston,  was  not 
shooting  much  and  scored  thirty-five  out  of  thirty-nine. 
I  only  had  four  hundred  and  thirty  birds  with  three 
hundred  and  fourteen  kills. 

I  shall  always  think  that  Harry  Roberts  is  one  of  the 
soundest  shots  I  ever  saw,  and  perhaps  he  can  take  the 
honours  among  the  Englishmen.  I  have  always  heard 
from  real  good  judges  that  perhaps  the  greatest  man 
who  ever  shot  pigeons  was  a  Captain  Brewer,  but  I  never 
saw  him.  Crosby,  who  came  from  somewhere  in  Iowa 
and  was  known  as  "  Tobacco  Bill,"  was  a  marvellous 
man  with  a  gun.  He  had  a  peculiar  habit  of  squirting 
a  big  mouthful  of  tobacco  which  he  had  in  his  cheek 
at  the  very  moment  of  crying  "  pull  "  to  the  man  at 
the  traps.  Perhaps  when  this  book  is  reviewed  and 
some  of  the  critics  are  as  kind  as  they  can  be  to  it, 
they  may  be  able  to  supplement  my  suggestions  with 
additional  information  about  those  I  write  of. 

By  the  way  one  of  the  most  remarkable  shots 
especially  among  young  men  was  a  Californian  who 

210 


Pkixce  Pomatowski  and  Tod  Sloan  at  the  Traps 

A  caricature  hv  Sciii 


VARIOUS  GOOD  SHOTS 

came  over  to  Europe  when  he  was  only  twenty  years 
of  age,  perhaps  even  less.  His  name  was  Clarence 
Norman.  I  am  told  by  many  who  should  know  that 
he  was  very  likely  the  best  pigeon-shot  who  ever  lived. 
I  know  that  Crittenden  Robinson  thought  Norman 
was  in  a  class  absolutely  by  himself,  and  this  coming 
from  such  a  great  shot  as  Robinson  was  acknowledged 
to  be  an  opinion  worth  remembering. 

It  has  always  struck  me  that  while  there  might  be 
an  age  limit  for  other  sports  there  is  no  age  limit  for 
pigeon-shots. 

Take  Harry  Roberts  for  instance  :  he  has  kept  his 
form  in  the  most  extraordinary  way.  Another  re- 
markable instance  was  that  of  Baron  de  Dordolot. 
Several  men  of  over  fifty  who  were  shooting  at  Monte 
Carlo  used  to  call  the  Baron  "  Pop,"  signifying  that  he 
was  a  generation  older  than  themselves.  This  wonder 
among  veterans,  in  his  limited  shooting  in  the  season 
I  have  been  writing  about,  killed  one  hundred  and 
ninety-two  out  of  two  hundred  and  forty-two  birds. 
Prince  Poniatowski,  another  veteran,  could  shoot  well. 
"  Sem  "  the  French  caricaturist  drew  a  remarkable 
picture  of  the  Prince,  who  was  a  very  tall  thin  man, 
carrying  a  very  small  gun,  while  he  depicted  me  with  a 
weapon  as  long  as  a  rifle  carried  in  any  old  warfare. 
"  Sem  "  said  himself  that  this  drawing  was  one  of  the 
happiest  things  he  ever  did. 

Perhaps  the  shooter  who  impressed  me  more  than 
any  other  was  Baron  de  Montpellier.  He  had  a  good 
record  that  season,  winning  six  first  prizes  and  two 
seconds.  But  that  was  not  so  much  the  point.  He 
was  such  a  picturesque  and  stylish  shot ;  he  could  put 
in  the  most  wonderful  finger  work  on  his  gun.  Every- 
one would  be  all  attention  when  he  walked  out  to 
shoot.     The  two  shots  would  be  as  near  as  possible 

211 


TOD  SLOAN 

simultaneous  ;  you  would  see  one  puff  follow  the  other 
in  a  flash  and  would  hardly  realise  what  space  of  a 
second  there  was  between  the  first  and  second.  Yet 
there  were  two  separate  aims  calculated  in  a  way  that 
would  have  made  him  a  prize  gunner  on  any  warship. 
He  was  an  impressive  figure  and  my  recollection  of  him 
is  as  fresh  to-day  as  it  was  then. 

Mention  of  Prince  Poniatowski  reminds  me  that  his 
son  in  California  showed  me  the  greatest  kindness 
when  I  was  out  there  in  January  1901.  There  was  a 
lot  of  talk  to  the  effect  that  I  hadn't  yet  got  back  my 
licence  in  England,  but  he  paid  little  attention  to  it : 
"  I  am  president  of  the  Ingleside  track  and  Sloan  can 
ride  here— that's  all."  And  I  did,  but  I  did  not  ride 
at  Oaklands,  also  in  California,  that  season  nor  after- 
wards. 

I  have  mentioned  in  an  earlier  chapter  that  Butiaio 
Bill  had  spoken  to  me  when  I  was  a  little  child.     I 
met  him  very  frequently  in  after  years  and  he  would 
always  encourage  any  ambition  of  mine  in  the  way  of 
shooting,  recommending  me  to  take  up  trick  shooting. 
But  to  me  there  never  seemed  any  money  in  that  kind 
of  work,  at  all  events  at  my  age.     Colonel  Cody  can  be 
ranked  as  one  of  the  greatest  trick  shots  who  ever  lived. 
I  never  met  nor  saw  the  great  Captain  Bogardus,  who 
was  remarkable  in  his  time,  and  there  were  plenty  of 
others  I  did  not  come  across  either.     A  lot  of  men 
have   sprung  up  in  the  pigeon  -  shooting  world  who 
were   in    reality    professionals,    boosters    for   powder 
companies  who  paid  all  their  expenses.     There  was  no 
status  of  the  amateur  about  them.     But  shooting  has 
been  a  semi-profession  with  so  many  that  it  is  not 
advisable  to  go  too  deeply  into  the  matter.     I  do  not 
want  to  offend  anyone. 


212 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

"  Sloan's  chance  hopeless  " 

To  try  Rose  de  Mai — Maitre  Labori — "Mr  Mean" — No  Friendship  in  Racing 

After  leaving  Monte  Carlo  in  that  spring  of  1903  I 
still  had  the  hope  that  my  licence  would  be  forthcom- 
ing— but  it  wasn't  of  course.  A  little  time  before  my 
spirits  had  been  raised  by  some  encouragement  I  had 
had  to  the  effect  that  the  French  Societe  might  give 
me  a  licence  to  ride  in  France.  Mr  George  Edwardes 
told  me  to  call  on  a  certain  distinguished  authoress  and 
playwright.  We  met  in  her  home  in  the  Avenue  du 
Bois  de  Boulogne  ;  she  spoke  English  well  and  was 
very  sympathetic  in  offering  her  assistance  on  my 
behalf  with  certain  distinguished  people.  From  time 
to  time  I  heard  how  things  were  going ;  they  seemed 
to  spell  success  for  the  efforts  that  were  being  made. 
Week  followed  week  and  still  everything  looked 
promising.  One  day  I  received  a  message  that  a 
certain  friend  of  hers — a  man — was  to  meet  two  men 
of  importance  at  a  minor  race  meeting,  that  it  was 
expected  that  the  matter  would  be  settled  then  and 
that  a  telegram  should  be  sent  off  that  very  afternoon. 
It  arrived  with  the  fateful  words 

"Sloan's   chance   hopeless   Eugene 
Leigh  has  won  five  races  I  " 

That  finished  it. 

All  the  stories  as  to  my  efforts  in  1900  to  get  a 
licence  for  Leigh  to  train  at  Newmarket  were  raked 

213 


TOD  SLOAN 

up   in   the   end   by  backbiters   and  slanderers.     Tlie 
Americans  were  in  bad  enough  odour  and  I  was  sup- 
posed to  be  allied  with  Leigh  from  the  moment  he 
came   to   Europe.     It   will  be   remembered   that   he 
trained  in  the  country  in  England.     At  that  time  a 
trainer  had  only  to  have  a  licence  when  he  wanted 
to  follow  his  calling  at  Newmarket.    It  was  he  and 
one  or  two  others  who  were  the  cause  of  a  new  rule 
being  passed  by  the  English  Jockey  Club  which  makes 
it  compulsory  for  all  trainers,  whether  at  Newmarket 
or  elsewhere,  to  receive  a  Jockey  Club  licence.     So 
Leigh  changed  from  England  to  France.     While  now 
he  is  recognised  everywhere  as  an  individual  and  a 
good    trainer   there    was    a    tremendous    amount    of 
"  chat  "  in  those  days,  and  for  some  mysterious  reason 
whatever  chance  I  had  of  getting  my  "  ticket  "  was 
all  done  in  because  of  his  success  that  afternoon.     It 
all  seemed  so  trivial. 

When  in  Monte  Carlo  I  met  Mr  Raphael,  well  known 
on  the  English  Turf  as  an  owner  and  breeder.  He  won 
the  Derby  in  1912  with  Tagalie.  He  told  me  that  he 
wanted  me  to  ride  a  horse  of  his  in  the  Derby,  for  he 
had  no  doubt  at  that  time  my  licence  would  be  given 
back  to  me.  Such  in  fact  was  the  general  opmion 
Mr  Raphael  told  me  :  "  There  are  many  m  favour  ot 
giving  you  back  what  you  have  so  long  missed. 
However  I  was  gradually  driven  to  the  realisation  that 
there  was  for  the  present  at  least  nothing  doing. 

I  began  to  turn  my  attention  to  motor-racmg  and 
was  going  to  drive  in  the  Paris-Madrid  race  but  some- 
how or  other  my  car  proved  too  heavy  and  my  stake 
money  was  sent  back.  I  went  down  the  road  and 
had  a  good  look  at  it  at  various  stages.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  there  were  a  number  of  casualties 
and  the  authorities  would  not  let  them  go  farther  than 

214 


TO  TRY  ROSE  DE  MAI 

Bordeaux.  Two  lost  their  lives  in  this  race,  including 
that  charming  man  Loraine  Barrow  who  was  well 
known  both  to  the  editor  of  this  book  and  to  me  ;  he 
had  his  home  at  Biarritz  where  he  was  generally  liked. 
I  had  breakfast  with  him  the  day  before  he  was  killed 
by  the  accident  to  his  car.  Charron  took  a  party  with 
him  including  tw^o  ladies  in  an  ordinary  touring  car 
and  finished  well  up  in  the  race.  But  then  he  was  a 
superb  driver  and  had  nerves  of  steel.  He  offered  to 
take  me  but  I  preferred  to  see  them  all  go  by  at 
different  places. 

It  was  my  friendship  for  Charron  which  led  to  my 
trouble  with  the  Societe  d'Encouragement.  Charron 
had  no  trainer  but  prepared  various  horses  for  himself 
and  others  at  Chantilly.  The  day  before  the  Prix  du 
Diane  he  came  to  me  in  great  trouble  saying  that  Rose 
de  Mai  had  been  suffering  from  a  cold  and  begged  me 
to  come  down  to  have  a  look  at  her.  Later  in  the  day, 
the  ow^ner,  w4io  was  a  member  of  the  Jockey  Club,  told 
me  in  his  curious  English  how  good  it  was  of  me. 

"  Mr  Charron  has  told  me,"  he  continued,  "  and  I 
cannot  thank  you  in  sufficient  way.  Ah,  but  it  is 
terrible,  and  you  are  a  good  man  to  be  so  kind." 

I  shall  never  forget  the  journey  down  to  Chantilly 
in  the  car  for  I  had  to  give  up  the  front  seat  to  a  lady 
and  I  was  frozen  sitting  at  the  back.  Indeed  I  began 
to  think  what  an  idiot  I  had  been  in  coming  for  there 
wasn't  a  shilling  in  it  for  me.  The  visit  did  lead  to  all 
sorts  of  trouble  as  the  sequel  will  show.  We  stayed 
at  the  Conde  for  the  night,  and  were  up  early.  I  had  a 
good  look  at  the  mare,  a  very  handsome  animal.  She 
coughed  once  or  twice  and  slobbed  at  the  nose.  How- 
ever, I  got  up  on  her  and  Charron  rode  Limonade,  who 
was  her  constant  companion  at  exercise.  There  was 
no  intention  to  gallop  them  of  course  and  we  trotted  to 

215 


TOD  SLOAN 

get  into  the  open  having  to  cross  the  "  Aigles  " — a 
particular  gallop  at  Chantilly.  There  was  nothing 
done  on  this  gallop  at  all ;  in  fact  it  was  more  a  walk 
out  than  anything.  But  we  were  seen  in  the  distance 
by  several  jockeys  and  trainers  and  it  got  about  that  we 
had  been  on  ground  prohibited  on  Sunday.  However 
of  that  later. 

On  getting  back  I  advised  Charron  and  the  owner  to 
let  her  take  her  chance,  and  gave  Ransch  who  was  to 
ride  her  his  instructions.  He  was  not  to  knock  her 
about  in  any  way  but  to  let  her  slip  along  if  she  felt 
like  it.  He  was  by  no  means  to  force  her  in  any  way 
at  all.  Further  I  recommended  Charron,  who  leaned 
on  my  judgment,  if  she  seemed  any  worse  after  the 
race,  to  let  her  have  a  very  long  ease  up.  We  heard  a 
little  bit  of  talk  during  the  morning  as  to  having  been 
on  the  "  Aigles  "  ;  it  appeared  they  had  recognised 
my  seat  on  the  mare,  and  the  "horrible"  story  had 
been  repeated  from  one  to  the  other. 

The  result  of  the  race  was  that  Rose  de  Mai  won 
easily,  she  had  opened  at  2  to  1  and  gone  out  to  14  to  1 
before  the  start.  I  never  thought  it  worth  having  any- 
thing on  her  for  I  didn't  know  then  how  moderate  the 
opposition  was.  I  think  Charron  put  on  ten  louis  for 
me  or  something  in  the  "  mutuel  "  but  I  can't  recollect 
exactly. 

After  the  race  M.  Caillault,  who  was  second,  lodged 
an  objection  on  the  score  that  I  was  the  trainer  of  the 
mare.  The  Stewards  held  a  big  pow-bow  over  it  but 
didn't  disqualify.  However  for  being  on  the  "  Aigles  " 
on  a  Sunday  and  in  answer,  I  suppose,  to  the  objection 
they  fined  Charron  a  thousand  francs,  and  warned  me 
off  the  saddling  enclosure  and  jockeys'  room — per- 
manently. It  was  indeed  a  body  blow.  I  couldn't 
afford  to  have  even  the  smallest  thing  against  me  at 

2l6 


MAITRE  LABORI 

that  time  for  it  would  all  tell  in  the  matter  of  my  getting 
a  licence  in  France  or  any  other  country.  Unfortun- 
ately at  that  time  I  had  no  one  to  give  me  sound  advice 
or  I  might  have  taken  a  different  course.  Perhaps  it 
doesn't  much  matter  now,  but  I  had  more  anxiety  at 
the  time  than  I  care  to  remember. 

In  a  hot-headed  way  I  rushed  in  to  clear  myself  and 
brought  an  action  against  the  Societe  d'Encourage- 
ment  and  claimed  damages.  I  managed  to  retain  the 
great  pleader,  Maitre  Labori.  One  of  the  most  charm- 
ing men  I  ever  met  in  my  life,  he  spoke  to  me  in  English 
all  the  time.  He  told  me  I  might  win  but  I  should  get 
nothing,  and  the  case  was  bound  to  do  me  harm. 
But  I  determined  to  go  ahead  and  the  records  will  show 
that  I  got  the  verdict  but  with  no  damages.  The 
Societe  on  the  other  hand  had  to  pay  all  the  costs. 
When  I  went  off  to  America  some  time  afterwards  they 
appealed  and  I  didn't  know  anything  about  it,  but 
Maitre  Labori  took  up  the  case  and  won  the  appeal — 
again  with  costs.  Thus  the  warning  off  from  that 
enclosure  didn't  hold. 

The  case  cost  me  from  start  to  finish  about  fifteen 
thousand  francs  or  six  hundred  pounds.  The  money 
wanted  a  bit  of  finding  at  the  time,  and  one  morning 
when  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to  put  up 
several  thousand  francs  on  account  of  costs  I  ran  into 
a  well-known  private  bank  in  Paris  with  my  available 
jewellery,  among  which  were  seventeen  tie  pins,  most  of 
them  given  me  by  owners.  Among  them  was  a  large 
pear-shaped  pearl  of  perfect  quality  and  colour  pre- 
sented to  me  by  Mr  "  Solly  "  Joel.  It  must  have  cost 
him  at  least  five  hundred  pounds.  The  whole  lot  was 
worth  one  hundred  thousand  francs.  I  asked  the 
bank  to  let  me  have  ten  thousand  francs  and  I  would 
pay    twelve    thousand    to    get    them    back.     Pawn- 

217 


TOD  SLOAN 

broking  in  France  being  a  monopoly  of  the  State — ^the 
Mont  de  Piete — it  was  impossible  to  "  lend  "  ;  they 
had  to  "  buy  "  the  lot  from  me  for  ten  thousand  francs 
and  agree  to  sell  it  back  for  twelve  thousand.  But 
there  was  no  written  contract  to  this  effect.  I  hadn't 
the  money  for  some  time  and,  going  to  America  in  the 
meantime,  I  returned  to  discover  to  my  horror  that 
they  had  sold  everything.  I  do  not  know  who  got  Mr 
Joel's  pearl,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  it  decorates 
the  scarf  of  a  certain  champagne  magnate  ;  some  of 
the  other  things  were  acquired  by  jockeys  and  trainers. 
Very  few  of  the  lot  was  I  able  to  get  hold  of,  for 
financial  reverses  do  not  come  singly.  It  was  a  terrible 
loss  to  me,  and  one  which  can  never  be  replaced. 

Just  another  reference  to  Rose  de  Mai.  There  was 
a  certain  owner  who  was  always  nosing  round  who 
sidled  up  to  me  on  the  day  of  that  race  just  before 
the  horses  went  to  the  post,  and  asked  :  "  Has  she  any 
chance  ?  " 

Now  I  wanted  to  get  one  back  at  him  and  the  only 
way  was  through  his  pocket,  so  I  replied,  "  She'll  walk 
in,"  and  was  tickled  to  death  at  the  idea  that  he 
might  go  and  lose  ten  thousand  francs.  He  put  his 
money  on  in  a  very  clever  way  and  scarcely  reduced 
the  price  at  all.  He  must  have  won  a  tremendous 
packet.  Of  course  I  was  glad  for  Charron's  sake  that 
she  won  but  all  the  same  I  kicked  myself  for  putting 
that  owner  on.  He  never  suspected  the  truth  and 
even  said  "  Thank  you  " — but  that  was  all !  He 
knew  I  smoked  cigars  but  I  suppose  he  forgot  it  when 
he  banked  his  money. 

This  reminds  me  of  an  absolutely  true  story  about 
a  friend  of  mine  who  used  to  race  in  America  but  now 
lives  in  Europe.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  a  man, 
quite  an  amateur,  tips  from  time  to  time,  and  the 

218 


Uyyiiiiiiiiii 


Rose  de  Mai 


MR  MEAN 

fellow,  who  was  in  business  and  travelled  about  selling 
his  goods,  made  thousands  of  dollars  in  consequence. 
Now  in  private  life  he  would  never  dip  down  into  his 
pocket  for  anything.  He  would  smoke  his  friend's 
cigars,  let  him  pay  for  theatre  tickets,  would  bring  a 
girl  or  two  with  him  and  would  let  the  giver  of  the  tips 
pay  for  the  meals  ;  in  fact  every  way  he  would  accept 
everything  and  give  nothing.  He  even  liked  his  street- 
car fares  to  be  paid  for  him.  To  sum  him  up,  he  was 
the  meanest  fellow  possible  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 
had  a  good  and  regular  commercial  income  and  was 
under  obligation  for  thousands  of  dollars  won  through 
my  friend's  tips.  It  was  that  unwillingness  even  to 
pay  his  street-car  fare  that  goaded  my  friend  to  frenzy, 
and  at  last  he  determined  to  get  even  with  him. 

He  went  to  "  Mr  Mean  "  one  day  and  said  :  "  How 
much  would  you  bet  if  I  gave  you  a  real  good  thing, 
a  big  outsider  who  might  start  at  perhaps  50  or  100 
to  1  ?  " 

The  reply  was  three  hundred  dollars. 

"  Tliat's  no  good,"  said  my  friend  :  "  you'll  have  to 
put  much  more  than  that  on  ;  mind  you,  I  don't  want 
any  of  it." 

"  Mr  Mean  "  thought  for  a  moment  and  answered 
that  he  would  put  on  five  hundred  and  perhaps  more. 
So  it  was  agreed  that  they  were  to  go  racing  next  after- 
noon. Quite  early  my  friend  went  to  a  certain  big 
bookmaker  and  asked  him  to  run  down  the  card  and 
pick  out  something  without  a  ghost  of  a  chance. 
Looking  down  the  list  the  bookmaker  said  :  "  I'll  bet 
you  five  dollars  that  this  one  will  be  absolutely  last. 
Is  that  good  enough  for  you  ?  W^iat's  more  she'll  be 
at  100  or  200  to  1."  My  friend  bet  him  the  five  dollars, 
being  quite  content  at  the  knowledge  that  he  was  sure 
to  lose.     Then  he  gave  the  name  of  the  horse  to  the 

219 


TOD  SLOAN 

mean  man  who  showed  hundred-dollar  bills  to  the  extent 
of  fifteen  hundred  dollars  in  all.  He  had  plucked  up 
courage  and  was  going  to  put  the  lot  on.  He  took 
advice  however  and  ultimately  split  it  up  into  smaller 
bills  so  that  he  should  not  alarm  the  bookmakers  and 
reduce  the  price  from  100  to  1  at  which  the  horse 
opened  when  the  betting  began. 

Chuckling  to  himself  the  giver  of  the  tip  went  up  on 
the  stand  to  see  the  fun.  The  start  was  rather  ragged 
and  something  happened  to  the  favourite.  That  out- 
sider won  by  half-a-length,  and  the  pile  "  Mr  Mean  " 
won  I  believe  made  him  give  up  racing  !  My  friend 
netted  the  five  dollars  the  bookmaker  laid  him.  He 
tried  to  ring  it  in  that  "  Mr  Mean  "  should  hand  over 
a  thousand  dollars  to  "give  to  the  jockey,"  but — not  a 
cent.  Of  course  I  needn't  tell  you  where  the  thousand 
dollars  would  have  gone,  or  the  best  part  of  it. 

Tommy  Grifiin,  who  owned  and  trained  in  America, 
may  remember  that  incident  although  he  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  tip.  I  fancy  he  trained  the  horse  though, 
and  that  he  was  the  most  surprised  man  on  the  course 
that  day.  Mention  of  Griffin,  who  retired  from  the 
saddle  to  train  and  own  horses,  and  for  w^iom  I  always 
rode  when  he  w^anted  me  to,  reminds  me  of  the  way  in 
which  he  was  thoroughly  soured  against  owners  great 
and  smalL  He  was  running  a  favourite  little  horse  of 
his  in  a  selling  race  and  hated  to  part  with  him,  but 
they  ran  him  up  after  he  had  won  and  he  had  to  let  his 
treasure  go.  Ever  after  that  it  didn't  matter  who  it 
was,  Avhether  it  was  Mr  August  Belmont  or  Mr  W.  C. 
Wliitney  or  anyone,  if  he  fancied  a  horse  he  would  stick 
at  it  till  he  had  bought  him.  Even  with  me,  one  of  his 
greatest  friends,  he  was  just  the  same.  He  gave  me 
fair  warning  of  what  he  intended  to  do,  and  would 
stick  at  no  friendship  nor  respect  anyone's  feelings  in 

220 


NO  FRIENDSHIP  IN  RACING 

the  matter  of  buying  out  of  selling  races.  I  had  a 
horse  named  Rubicon  for  whom  I  paid  seventeen 
hundred  dollars.  He  ran  in  "  Pittsburg  Phil's  "  name 
and  colours,  and  I  won  five  straight  races  on  him, 
eventually  putting  him  in  a  high-class  selling  race 
worth  five  thousand  dollars.  I  rode  and  won.  Griffin 
plugged  away  at  the  bidding  and  eventually  had 
Rubicon  knocked  down  to  him  for  four  thousand  five 
hundred  dollars.  Of  course  I  never  dreamed  he  would 
go  on,  nor  could  I  realise  that  anyone  would  pay  so 
much  for  a  plater.  I  don't  think  I  ever  came  quite 
so  near  crying  over  anything  in  my  life,  but  I  re- 
membered then  all  that  Griffin  had  said  to  me 
previously.  All  he  added  now  was  :  "  I'm  sorry.  Tod  ; 
I'm  your  friend  and  I'm  also  a  friend  of  Phil's,  but  I 
always  told  you  what  I'd  do."  Nothing  would  shake 
him.  He  wouldn't  sell  me  the  horse  back.  "  Racing 
is  a  business,"  he  answered  when  I  asked  him.  "  I 
had  my  bit  of  grief  the  day  I  lost  that  favourite  horse 
of  mine.  It's  no  good  talking  ;  you  mustn't  keep  up 
a  grudge  against  me,  for  I'd  sooner  be  a  friend  than 
otherwise,  but  I'd  do  exactly  the  same  thing  to- 
morrow if  you  had  something  else  in  a  race  which  I 
wanted." 

Of  course  the  big  fellows  used  to  get  a  bit  mad  with 
him  at  times,  but  Griffin  was  fearless  and  didn't  pay 
the  slightest  heed  when  it  was  whispered  to  him  that 
he  had  better  be  careful.  He  always  relied  on  his 
stock  saying  that  business  was  business,  and  he  refused 
to  be  talked  out  of  his  new  method.  Many  others 
have  had  a  similar  experience.  Of  course  in  cases 
where  horses  are  bought  or  claimed  it  has  often 
been  a  matter  of  private  grievances  coming  out, 
but  Griffin  never  bore  the  slightest  animosity  against 
anybody  :  all  names  were  the  same  to  him. 

221 


CHAPTER  XXX 

DOPE 

Long  Priced  Rides — Never  saw  Fred  Archer — At  New  Orleans 

I  FOUND  during  the  following  year  that  many  visitors 
to  Paris  were  curious  enough  to  ask  me  all  sorts  of 
questions  about  certain  incidents  which  had  happened 
during  my  racing  career  which  had  been  cut  off  so 
suddenly.  I  can  remember  especially  being  asked 
what  long  shots  had  been  steered  home  by  me,  and 
some  of  the  answers  which  were  given  may  be  useful 
to  add  to  those  which  have  already  appeared.  In 
England  in  my  first  season  I  brought  off  successfully 
several  25  to  1  and  33  to  1  chances. 

Among  the  longer  shots  in  America  that  I  can 
remember  was  an  animal  belonging  to  the  late  Louis 
Ezell.  There  were  plenty  of  100  to  1  bets  taken  about 
him  that  afternoon  at  Chicago.  Remember  that  it 
was  away  back  when  it  was  thought  I  couldn't  ride — 
in  fact  I  was  just  at  my  worst !  If  memory  serves  it 
was  in  1893.  Ezell  said  to  me  :  "  Do  the  best  you 
can.  I  don't  think  he's  got  a  chance  ;  at  all  events 
I'll  leave  the  colt  to  you."  For  all  I  know  he  had 
looked  about  for  a  boy  who  couldn't  possibly  win,  for 
as  I  said  in  a  previous  chapter  that  was  the  kind  of 
reputation  I  had  at  the  time.  I  happened  to  get  fairly 
well  away  and  certainly  I  was  dead  keen  on  winning. 
I  let  the  colt  slip  along,  making  every  post  a  winning 
one.  During  the  race  there  was  time  to  think  it  over. 
I  had  received  no  instructions  about  "  pulling  him 

222 


LONG  PRICED  RIDES 

in  behind,"  and  if  I  had  I  would  not  have  followed 
them — I  shouldn't  even  have  listened.  I  think  my 
friends  and  those  who  have  criticised  me  can  say  with 
perfect  certainty  that  nothing  would  ever  satisfy  me 
but  to  win.  I  looked  round  in  that  race  in  Chicago 
and  could  see  nothing  near  me.  Still  I  shook  my 
mount  up,  and  I  won  pulling  up.  My  brother  Cash 
rode  in  the  same  race  and  told  me  afterwards  that  he 
was  never  so  surprised  in  his  life.  It  was  like  his 
cheek  !  By  the  way,  although  he  was  always  known 
as  "  Cash,"  his  proper  name  was  Cassius  Braynand 
Sloan,  the  second  name  being  after  my  Uncle  Braynand. 

After  the  race  just  alluded  to  Ezell  was  not  pleased 
— no,  not  at  all !  He  said  :  "  WTiat  did  you  go  and 
win  for  ?  I  wanted  to  bet  on  this  one  when  I  thought 
he  had  a  chance.  You  ought  to  have  known  that  it 
was  the  first  time  I  had  him  out." 

I  didn't  figure  it  up  but  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  a  question  of  his  wanting  me  to  "  qualify  " 
him.  However,  surely  he  knew  I  was  too  inexperi- 
enced for  that.  It  wasn't  worth  while  answering  for 
I  was  so  tickled  to  death  at  winning  a  race.  Ezell 
thought  me  a  fool  and  left  it  at  that. 

There  were  several  long  priced  winners  in  England, 
Sea  Fog  for  instance,  whom  I  rode  for  Sir  R.  Waldie 
Griffith.  If  I  remember  rightly  this  horse  started  at 
33  to  1.  It  was  before  the  American  invasion  and 
before  anyone  had  started  betting  blindly  on  anything. 
I  had  the  good  or  bad  luck  to  ride.  Sea  Fog  brought 
me  in  a  nice  little  bit  of  spending  money  for  I  had  a 
standing  bet  of  ten  pounds  each  way  on  each  of  my 
mounts. 

Another  question  I  may  as  well  answer  here  is  as  to 
what  horse  I  have  personally  found  the  most  con- 
sistent.    In    answering    I    should    certainly    include 

223 


TOD  SLOAN 

Belmar  already  referred  to,  while  the  best  two-year-old 
I  ever  rode  was  a  colt  named  Jean  Beraud  owned  by 
Dave  Gideon,  the  uncle  of  Melville  Gideon,  so  well 
known  as  the  composer  and  singer  of  rag-time.  I  do 
not  know  whether  the  latter  remembers  the  young 
horse  in  question,  for  Melville  is  some  years  my  junior. 
Among  the  many  musicians  I  have  met  in  my  life  I 
put  him  down  as  one  of  the  greatest  in  his  own  line. 
I  was  once  a  bit  of  a  tenor  myself  ;  in  fact  I  had  always 
a  keen  appreciation  and  a  certain  amount  of  knowledge 
of  music  of  all  kinds.  Melville  Gideon  was  quite  a 
wonder  as  a  boy,  and  afterwards  studied  music  in 
Germany ;  he  is  versatile  to  a  degree  and  has  only  to 
stick  to  it  to  be  able  to  do  anything.  Anyhow,  he  has 
amused  a  great  public  in  all  parts  of  the  world  while 
his  melodies  seem  destined  to  last  as  long  as  "The 
Swanee  River." 

Another  topic  I  have  been  frequently  interviewed 
about — by  French  journalists  in  particular — is  the 
question  of  "  dope."  It  would  be  silly  to  say  that  the 
meaning  of  the  term  was  not  known  to  me,  but  I  can 
say  frankly,  without  any  fear  of  being  hauled  up,  that 
I  never  handled  dope  of  any  kind  nor  lent  myself  to 
its  use.  One  of  the  first  questions  put  to  me  in  this 
connection  was  always  as  to  whether  drugs  were  liable 
to  injure  a  horse  permanently,  and  my  intelligent  reply 
could  only  be  that  a  real  stimulant  would  perhaps  help 
an  animal  who  was  a  little  faint-hearted  or  had  a  weak- 
ness in  temperament,  much  as  a  man  could  be  "  assisted  " 
by  whisky  or  brandy  properly  applied.  I  do  not 
know,  having  been  out  of  racing  for  so  long,  whether  the 
old-fashioned  English  stimulants  of  port  wine  or  old 
ale,  which  I  have  read  have  been  given  to  horses  for 
generations,  are  still  permitted,  but  I  have  been  told 
by  many  old-time  racing  men  in  England  that  they  were 

224 


LoKi)  Carnarvon  and  Tod  Sloan  at  Longchamps 

A   taiiiature  I'V  Sciii 


NEVER  SAW  FRED  ARCHER 

very  effective  on  occasions.  I  have  never,  to  my 
knowledge,  seen  or  ridden  a  horse  having  this  kind 
of  homely  dope,  but  it  is  quite  possible  to  maintain 
that  no  permanent  harm  could  be  done  by  swallowing 
either.  I  have  also  read  and  heard  about  whisky 
being  used,  but  I  should  keep  an  open. mind  about  its 
possibility. 

Dope  is  given  to  horses  to  stop  them.  This  I  am 
almost  certain  of.  Surely  a  poisonous  drug  might  injure 
a  horse's  racing  career  for  all  time.  Good  gracious  me  ! 
think  of  the  effect  on  an  athlete  :  his  stomach  and 
nervous  system  might  be  ruined  for  ever  from  the 
effect  of  swallowing  the  kind  of  poison  which  beyond 
question  has  been  given  to  race-horses.  We  Americans 
were  all  supposed  to  be  absolute  experts  in  dope,  but 
don't  believe  half  you  hear  on  the  subject ;  three- 
quarters  of  it  is  absurd.  Modern  training  methods 
and  riding  in  new  styles  made  so  much  difference  that 
critics  could  not  understand  altered  form  and  attri- 
buted it  to  little  bits  of  "  You  know  what,  mixed  as 
we  know  how." 

One  of  the  greatest  regrets  of  my  life  was  that  I 
never  saw  Fred  Archer  ride.  I  have  stood  several 
times  by  his  graveside  in  the  cemetery  at  Newmarket 
and  tried  to  picture  him  from  his  photograph  doing 
those  wonderful  records  which  I  had  read  so  much  of. 
Americans  in  my  early  days  were  always  discussing 
the  merits  of  Archer  compared  with  those  of  boys  like 
McLoughlin  and  Garrison.  I  was  continually  told  that 
Archeif  had  ridden  two  thousand  seven  hundred  and 
forty-eight  winners  during  his  career  of  nineteen  years. 
There  is  sufficient  in  this  to  make  him  the  greatest 
living  jockey  of  all  time.  Doesn't  it  seem  a  terrible 
thing  for  any  man  to  be  cut  off  from  trying  to  equal 
that  record  ?  Perhaps  it  might  not  have  been  possible, 
p  225 


TOD  SLOAN 

but,  with  the  average  I  earned  in  several  years  that 
of  about  thirty-three  per  cent,  of  winners  in  some 
seasons,  and  thirty-eight  per  cent,  in  Cahfornia,  I  feel 
that  if  I  had  lasted  out  physically  the  past  fifteen 
years  might  have  brought  up  the  number  of  winning 
mounts  to  nearly  the  figures  obtained  by  the  immortal 
horseman  who  had  a  jockey's  career  less  long  than 
mine  would  have  been. 

I  made  many  attempts  during  the  year  which 
followed  to  find  out  what  chance  I  had  of  getting  my 
licence  again,  but  despite  having  good  friends  I  had  no 
encouragement  at  all ;  in  fact  the  prospect  became 
more  and  more  dismal.  I  went  over  to  America  in 
the  spring  of  1904  and  should  have  returned  beyond 
question  in  the  fall  of  the  year  had  there  been  any 
bright  outlook.  I  had  many  powerful  friends  in  New 
York  who  tried  to  do  everything  possible  for  me,  but 
it  all  proved  hopeless.  In  the  East  they  would  not 
give  me  a  licence  on  the  score  that  they  might  offend 
the  English  Jockey  Club,  with  which  reasoning  I  have 
no  kind  of  quarrel.  Ed.  Corrigan,  who  was  opening 
a  new  race-track  at  New  Orleans,  wired  to  me  to  go 
out  to  see  him  at  Los  Angeles.  He  offered  to  give 
me  ten  thousand  dollars  for  the  season  if  I  would  ride 
on  his  course.  Naturally  I  was  to  be  the  star  turn  or 
advertisement  for  the  new  track.  Over  three  thousand 
pounds  for  a  season  was  not  to  be  sneezed  at.  I 
consulted  my  friends  to  see  what  they  thought  about 
it  all.  I  had  been  keeping  myself  pretty  fit  riding  at 
exercise,  and  I  may  say  that  I  never  had  any  difficulty 
in  getting  round  into  condition  after  a  slack  time. 
I  had  natural  confidence  and  I  never  put  on  flesh, 
so  it  was  easier  for  me  than  for  others.  There  were 
many  friends  to  leave  in  New  York,  and  a  certain 
amount  of  hesitancy  was  inevitable.     Neither  did  I 

226 


AT  NEW  ORLEANS 

quite  like  the  idea  of  riding  on  a  track  which,  although 
not  exactly  "  outlawed,"  was  liable  to  be  barred. 
Such  were  the  conditions  of  affairs  in  New  Orleans  ; 
and  I  did  not  think  for  a  moment  they  would  allow 
me  to  get  in  the  saddle  at  the  rival  track  whose  dates 
were  about  the  same  as  where  I  was  to  figure.  It 
turned  out  just  as  I  had  anticipated,  and  I  had  no  heart 
at  all  in  the  work  which  was  before  me. 

It  proved  a  terrible  place  :  the  horses  were  up  to 
their  bellies  in  mud  and  their  temperament  changed 
just  as  my  own  had  done.  I  felt  exiled  and  I  never 
took  any  interest  in  the  work  at  all.  I  played  bridge 
at  night  and  was  so  disgruntled  that  I  lost  heart  in  the 
whole  business.  I  won  five  races  out  of  fourteen 
mounts,  but  that  was  no  good  to  anyone  and  I  gave 
it  up. 


237 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

MY   MARRIAGE 

My  Monologue — My  Engagement — What  a  "Buck"  is 

I  WAS  rather  disgusted  after  that  New  Orleans  trip, 
and  I  settled  down  in  New  York  again,  buying  a  new 
car  and  going  racing  with  varying  luck.  My  court- 
ship of  JNIiss  Julia  Sanderson  had  lasted  a  long  time, 
and  eventually  I  was  married  to  my  "  first  and  only 
wife  "  on  21st  August  1907.  I  had  taken  a  flat  in 
45th  Street  and  furnished  it.  The  real  happiness 
which  followed  was  the  best  solace  possible  for  dis- 
appointments, and  all  those  pleasant  days,  months 
and  years  helped  me  to  think  that  after  all  there  was 
a  great  deal  left  in  life.  My  wife  remained  on  the  stage 
after  we  were  married,  while  I  had  started  a  big  billiard- 
room  containing  eighteen  tables  with  John  McGraw, 
the  great  baseball  player  and,  at  the  time  of  writing, 
manager  of  the  "  Giants  "  team.  This  business  oc- 
cupied a  great  deal  of  time,  as  I  was  sometimes  up 
looking  after  the  show  for  half  the  night.  Still  it  was 
a  good  place  and  the  profits  were  steady. 

Soon  after  my  billiard  enterprise  an  offer  came  to 
me  to  appear  on  the  vaudeville  stage  in  a  monologue 
entertainment.  The  inducement  was  great  :  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  a  week.  Certain  facts  were  related  to 
the  dramatic  author  and  manager,  Geo.  M.  Cohan,  and 
he  put  together  something  which  I  learnt  by  heart. 
There  was  no  question  of  stage  fright  in  advance,  but 
as  the  time  for  my  first  appearance  came  round  I  had 

228 


MY  MONOLOGUE 

necessarily  a  certain  amount  of  nervousness  as  to 
whether  I  should  make  good  or  not.  The  first  en- 
gagement was  at  Hammerstein's.  The  question  of 
what  I  should  wear  was  debated  and  at  last  it  was 
decided  that  evening  clothes  would  be  the  most 
suitable.  It  went  all  right  and  business  was  excellent, 
I  used  to  get  a  good  number  of  laughs^ — more  I  suppose 
on  account  of  Cohan's  witty  lines  ;  at  all  events  the 
credit  must  be  left  to  him.  It  is  a  pity  that  I  cannot 
now  remember  the  whole  of  the  monologue.  Stories 
about  England  were  told,  not  altogether  to  boost  the 
country  I  had  ridden  in.  Little  yarns  about  some  of 
the  antiquated  customs  of  the  old  country  nearly  always 
go  down  to  a  mixed  audience  at  a  vaudeville  show  in 
America.  There  was  one  story  about  the  English 
national  game  of  cricket.  I  had  to  describe  how  a 
man  went  to  the  wicket  with  his  bat  when  he  was  a 
boy,  and  stayed  there  until  his  whiskers  began  to  grow, 
and  on  and  on  year  after  year  until  he  became  grey 
and  was  succeeded  by  his  son.  It  was  a  gibe  against 
the  slowness  of  the  game  as  compared  with  the  thrilling 
quickness  of  baseball.  I  shall  always  think  that  with 
a  few  more  demonstrations  of  baseball  the  taste  for  it 
in  England  would  have  been  started.  Everything  is 
crowded  into  about  three  hours,  and  some  day  even 
Englishmen  will  refuse  to  be  entertained  by  a  struggle 
which  is  not  decided  for  three  days — and  then  some- 
times not  finished. 

Another  story  I  told  concerned  my  advice  to  the 
great  James  Rowe  about  a  horse  race.  I  was  supposed 
to  say  to  him  :  "  You  had  better  have  a  bet  on  my 
mount  to-day,"  and  he  refused,  telling  me  that  I  had 
told  him  to  back  the  same  animal  a  few  days  before 
and  he  had  lost  five  hundred  dollars.  Then  I  brought 
down  the  house  by  telling  how  I  ultimately  convinced 

229 


TOD  SLOAN 

him  with  the  argument  :  "  /  am  putting  five  hundred 
dollars  on  him  to-day  !  "  An  audience  always  likes 
stories  told  against  oneself. 

Then  I  rung  in  another  story  about  America's  great 
jockey  Snapper  Garrison.  I  recounted  how  I  had  met 
him  on  the  race-track  and  said  :  "  Wiy  don't  you  go 
on  the  stage  the  same  as  I  am  and  earn  fifteen  hundred 
dollars  a  week?  You  have  only  to  go  before  an 
audience  and  tell  them  what  you  did  when  you  were 
riding." 

He  was  supposed  to  reply  :  "  Tell  them  what  I  did  ? 
Wliy,  I  wouldn't  do  that  for  ten  thousand  a  week  !  " 
It  doesn't  perhaps  look  so  funny  in  cold  print  but  I 
got  across  with  it — again  thanks  to  Mr  Geo.  Cohan. 
By  the  way,  Mr  Cohan  is  one  of  the  best  friends 
possible  to  those  he  likes  or  who  are  in  need  of  a  helping 
hand.  The  little  charities  he  has  done  are  numberless. 
One  day  he  walked  into  a  saloon  kept  by  a  man  he 
had  known  in  happier  circumstances.  He  had  heard 
that  this  particular  saloon-keeper  had  not  been  going 
very  strong  and  had  been  struggling  to  overcome 
misfortune.  He  also  knew  for  certain  that  the  place 
was  absolutely  the  man's  own  property.  Calling  for  a 
couple  of  drinks,  he  threw  down  a  thousand -dollar 
note  and  told  the  barman  to  "  ring  it  up  in  the  machine  " 
(the  check  till).  It  was  a  graceful  way  of  doing  some- 
thing without  making  a  fuss  about  his  bounty. 

My  wife  went  from  one  show  to  another  in  musical 
comedy  and  paid  two  visits  to  London — much  to  my 
regret — however,  that  need  not  be  alluded  to.  There 
was  one  incident,  however,  which  I  shall  never  forget, 
that  being  when  I  raced  across  the  Atlantic  to  see  her, 
cabling  beforehand  for  her  not  to  sail  until  after  my 
arrival.  Somehow  the  cable  miscarried  :  whose  fault 
it  was  doesn't  matter,  but  when  I  arrived  she  had  sailed 

230 


Miss  Ti'IIA  Sanoerson 


MY  ENGAGEMENT 

twelve  hours  before  !  We  must  have  passed  each 
other  somewhere  off  the  coast  of  Ireland.  It  is  no 
use  reviving  that  memory,  but  there  are  times  in  one's 
life  when  we  can  be  in  a  state  of  what  I  would  call  the 
hopelessness  of  despair.  Talk  about  anything  which 
had  occurred  before  in  my  life,  the  trouble  about  the 
licence,  losing  thousands  of  pounds,  in  fact  anything 
which  can  be  remembered  :  they  were  as  nothing  com- 
pared with  my  feelings  when  I  reached  England  and 
found  that  she  had  gone.  Still,  the  personal  note  in 
connection  with  the  girl  who  was  gracious  enough  to 
take  my  name  can  be  dismissed. 

The  following,  which  was  published  at  the  time,  may 
be  interesting  (it  was  just  before  our  marriage)  : — 

"JOCKEY  HAS  BEEN  DEVOTED 


(( 


There's  a  pretty  definite  rumour  in  circulation  that 
names  Julia  Sanderson  of  the  '  Fantana  '  forces  as 
the  prospective  bride  of  J.  Todhunter  Sloan,  the  noted 
jockey.  And  although  Miss  Sanderson  has  taken 
occasion,  in  the  way  of  mild  rebuke,  to  receive  the 
story  in  the  spirit  of  jest,  the  report,  to  use  the  well- 
known  phrase  appropriate  at  such  times,  will  not 
down. 

"Until  Sloan  was  summoned  to  New  Orleans  to  re- 
sume his  seat  in  the  saddle  at  Ed.  Corrigan's  City  Park 
race-track,  he  and  Miss  Sanderson  had  been  observed 
frequently  in  each  other's  company,  and  the  diminutive 
jockey  played  the  gallant  so  devotedly  that  the  report 
of  an  engagement  was  the  principal  topic  in  the 
'  Fantana  '  company. 

"  Just  before  Sloan  started  for  the  South,  he  and  Miss 
Sanderson  occupied  a  box  at  a  Sunday  night  concert 
in   a   New   York    theatre.     During   the   intermission 

231 


TOD  SLOAN 

several  mutual  friends  took  occasion  to  congratulate 
them  on  the  reported  engagement.  Sloan  tried  to 
blush  and  said  nothing.  Miss  Sanderson  smiled  feebly 
and  remarked  that  it  wasn't  wise  to  believe  all  reports. 
"Miss  Sanderson's  rise  on  the  musical  stage  has 
been  meteoric.  She  was  an  unknown  chorus  girl  in 
Winsome  Winnie  when  Paula  Edwardes,  the  star,  was 
suddenly  called  away  by  the  death  of  her  brother. 
Without  previous  rehearsal  Miss  Sanderson  sang  the 
title  role  and  made  a  hit.  She  was  subsequently 
assigned  to  a  role  of  importance  in  A  Chinese  Honey- 
moon, and  after  Madge  Lessing  retired  from  Wang 
received  the  part  of  Mataya." 

From  Hammerstein's  my  engagement  extended  to 
Brooklyn  and  elsewhere,  but  the  strain  of  two  shows  a 
day  became  too  great ;  it  was  all  right  looking  forward 
to  the  evening  only,  but  I  didn't  feel  equal  to  the 
afternoon  too,  and  perhaps  rather  foolishly  made  no 
more  bookings.  It  must  be  remembered  that  natur- 
ally the  big  billiard  hall  could  not  be  looked  after 
quite  so  well,  and  there  was  enough  in  this  to  give  us  a 
good  living.  That  particular  trip  to  America,  where 
I  only  intended  to  go  for  a  few  months  in  1904,  ex- 
tended up  to  1908.  It  can  be  put  down  here  that 
despite  my  having  no  licence  to  ride,  and  my  repeated 
failures  to  get  one,  old  friends  stuck  to  me  and  that 
I  made  new  ones.  Year  succeeds  year  very  quickly 
when  we  get  over  a  certain  age  and  those  happy  three 
years  after  my  marriage  seemed  to  fly.  Of  course 
there  were  little  ups  and  downs  of  fortune  which  are 
inseparable  from  the  experiences  of  those  who  go 
racing,  but  somehow  when  there  is  racing  money  seems 
to  circulate  more  freely  and  there  were  always  a  certain 
number  of  "  bucks  "  in  my  pocket.     For  those  who  are 

232 


WHAT  A  BUCK  IS 

ignorant  as  to  what  a  "  buck  "  is,  it  might  be  explained 
that  this  is  slang  for  a  dollar,  and  here  is  a  story  about 
an  old-time  prize-fighter  who  used  to  be  a  frequenter 
of  my  billiard-room. 

This  man  would  sit  watching  a  game  for  hours,  inter- 
fering with  no  one.  Occasionally  somebody  would 
slip  him  something  to  help  him  along.  I  heard  a  fine 
little  bit  of  comedy  one  afternoon  when  an  old  gentle- 
man was  shaking  hands  and  bidding  him  good-bye. 
The  old  pugilist  said  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  could  you  lend  me  a  buck 
before  you  go  ?     I  want  to  buy  some  food." 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  ready  response,  as  he  took 
out  his  pocket-book,"  but  tell  me  how  much  a  '  buck  ' 
is,  I  have  never  heard  of  it."  Without  the  slightest 
hesitation  the  old  fighter  said  with  a  smile  of  innocent 
childhood:    "Two  dollars." 

Another  time  he  met  an  old  friend  down  in  the 
billiard -room  and  they  talked  for  over  an  hour. 
Suddenly  the  occasional  visitor  got  up  to  go. 

"  You're  not  going  to  leave  me  like  that,"  said  the 
ex-boxer,  "  without  even  a  car  fare  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  give  you  that  all  right,"  said  the 
"  financier,"  as  he  opened  his  wallet.  "  I'll  give  you 
a  car  fare.     Where  do  you  want  to  go  ?  " 

"  To  Kansas  City ! "  said  the  bright  boy.  They 
both  laughed ;  and  at  all  events  enough  was  forth- 
coming for  a  half-way  journey  for  where  the  pug. 
didnH  want  to  go. 

He  was  an  excellent  story-teller  himself,  and  I  can 
remember  that  one  day  he  came  in  mopping  his  fore- 
head, saying  that  he  had  never  been  for  such  a  long 
walk  for  weeks.  It  appears  that  a  young  fellow  who 
had  squandered  one  or  two  fortunes  had  been  put  on  a 
close  allowance  by  his  family.     He  was  put  to  live  in 

233 


TOD  SLOAN 

a  big  hotel  down  town  where  he  could  have  every- 
thing in  that  house  :  meals,  cigars,  drinks,  in  fact  all 
he  wanted  within  reason  ;  but  not  a  penny  of  ready 
money  was  given  him.  The  fighter  met  him  and 
wanted  a  good  drink  and  cigar.  "  Come  to  my  place," 
said  the  young  fellow,  but  neither  had  the  money  for 
the  car  fare  and  they  had  to  tramp  it  over  two  miles 
with  the  thermometer  nearly  100°  in  the  shade. 

"  Never  again,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  although  I  must 
say  I  did  have  four  glasses  of  whisky  and  smoked  four 
cigars  and  he  gave  me  these  two  to  bring  away  with 
me." 

Certainly  it  was  an  extraordinary  way  for  a  family 
to  try  and  keep  a  boy  in  order. 

I  am  reminded  by  this  of  just  another  yam  con- 
cerning an  owner  in  America.  He  had  two  sons  who 
hated  the  idea  of  work.  The  father  had  tried  them 
several  times,  but  they  were  such  absolute  slackers 
that  he  gave  it  up  as  a  bad  job.  He  let  them  stay  at 
home,  where  they  had  everything  they  wanted,  and 
their  allowance  for  pocket  money  was  five  dollars  a 
day.  If  the  father  did  not  see  them  in  the  morning 
the  sum  was  left  with  the  greatest  punctuality  in  an 
envelope  on  the  hall  table  and  in  no  circumstances  did 
he  increase  the  allowance  nor  let  them  anticipate  it. 
He  paid  for  their  clothes  too  up  to  a  certain  sum  every 
year  and  when  they  went  away  for  the  summer  vaca- 
tion the  money  was  doled  out  in  precisely  the  same 
fashion. 


234 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

HOPE  DEFERRED 

Ruined  through  Winning — Acquiring  Abelard  II. — "The  Knock" 

Throughout  this  book  I  am  afraid  that  I  may  have 
said  too  much  of  my  perpetual  hopes  and  fears  about 
getting  a  hcence.  At  all  events  at  the  beginning  of 
1909  I  was  led  to  believe  there  was  yet  another  chance, 
but — the  usual  result. 

I  went  back  to  France  therefore,  and  then  on  to 
Ostend.     Here   one  day   I   was   introduced   to   Lord 
Torrington  :    we  seemed  to  have  a  lot  of  interests  in 
common   straight   away.     The   friendship   struck   up 
there  lasted  for  a  long  time.      We  saw  out  the  re- 
mainder of  the  season  at  Ostend,  having  determined 
to  go  on  to  Brussels  immediately  afterwards.     Lord 
Torrington  proved  a  splendid  sportsman  and  was  on 
for  any  enterprise  which  the  means  at  our  disposal 
could  exploit.     We  learned  to  know  each  other  better 
and  better,  and  we  had  no  hesitation  about  embarking 
on  a  little  deal  together  at  the  opening  of  the  Autumn 
season.     I  saw  an  animal  walking  round  the  paddock 
which  I  mistook  for  a  colt,  but  which  proved  to  my 
surprise  to  be  a  filly.     Getting  closer  to  her,  her  good 
looks  impressed  me  very  much  ;   in  fact  she  looked  all 
over  a  winner,  and  of  much  better  class  than  the  others. 
I  told  "  T  "  what  I  thought  of  her  and  we  had  a  nice 
bet  about  her  on  the  off  chance,  and  we  arranged  that 
if  she  did  win  we  would  try  to  buy  her. 

Everything    turned    out    successfully  :     she    won, 

235 


TOD  SLOAN 

and  we  secured  her  for  three  thousand  francs. 
That  was  the  start  of  the  stable.  The  filly  was 
Campenoise,  who  afterwards  won  many  races.  We 
put  her  in  charge  of  Adament  Douliere,  who  trained  at 
Mons  for  the  President  of  the  Jockey  Club,  M.  Coppee. 
He  was  one  of  the  nicest  men  I  ever  met  in  Belgium 
and  would  take  any  amount  of  trouble  with  horses. 
Campenoise  never  ran  in  a  Selling  Plate  after  that. 
The  first  time  we  ran  her,  in  Lord  Torrington's  colours 
of  course,  she  won,  and  we  had  already  made  a  nice 
profit  on  our  investment.  All  we  touched  seemed  to 
turn  into  money  for  a  time,  until  the  end  of  the  season 
came.  Lord  Torrington  went  off  for  a  trip  to  the 
West  Indies  and  I  decided  to  spend  a  week  in  Paris. 
It  was  at  the  time  of  the  floods.  Paris  was  lighter  and 
ga^'-er  than  at  any  time  during  the  first  war  winter  of 
1914-1915.  There  was  plenty  of  excitement  too  when 
the  water  was  reported  to  be  rising  so  many  inches  a 
day.  But  at  the  hotels  and  restaurants  no  one  was  upset. 
It  was  just  something  to  look  at  and  wonder  about. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  Mr  George  Edwardes  sent 
over  for  me  to  ride  a  trial  for  him  at  Ogbourne  and  I 
went.  It  was  my  first  meeting  with  his  trainer,  Pat 
Hartigan. 

After  several  rides  Mr  Edwardes  asked  :  "  Well, 
how's  the  stable  getting  on  in  Belgium  ;  do  you  want 
one  or  two  ?  " 

There  was  an  old  horse  I  had  seen  who  had  first  been 
leading  the  two-year-olds,  been  switched  on  afterwards 
to  some  older  horses  and  even  then  had  not  finished. 
Then  my  eye  caught  a  black  but  I  was  told  I  couldn't 
have  him.  Then  I  suggested  I  would  like  the  old 
horse,  who  proved  to  be  Abelard  II. 

"  Oh,  choose  anything  else  but  him,"  said  Pat 
Hartigan.     "  Don't  take  him  ;   he's  too  useful." 

236 


RUINED  THROUGH  WINNING 

Mr  Edwardes  laughed  :  "  Oh,  you  want  them  ail, 
Pat  !  You  take  him,  Tod  ;  you  can  have  him  with 
pleasure."     He  practically  gave  him  to  me. 

I  had  heard  that  the  old  'un  had  let  Mr  Edwardes 
down  once  or  twice,  and  perhaps  for  this  reason  he 
wasn't  so  sorry  to  see  the  back  of  him,  so  that  he  should 
not  lose  any  more  money.  At  all  events  I  was  very 
proud  of  our  new  property  and  he  was  duly  sent  over 
to  Belgium. 

It  must  be  mentioned  that  at  this  time  I  had  been 
promised  a  trainer's  licence  in  Belgium  and  there  was 
every  reason  to  think  it  would  be  handed  to  me  in  a 
few  days.  At  last  it  seemed  that  my  luck  was  chang- 
ing and  that  I  was  to  start  off  with  a  real  good  chance 
of  making  good.  Several  of  my  friends  congratulated 
me  in  advance  on  my  good  fortune  and  some  of  them 
went  as  far  as  to  say  that  they  would  support  me.  I 
had  made  my  plans  and  was  counting  the  hours  to  the 
time  when  it  should  be  announced  to  those  I  respected 
in  England  and  America  that  at  last  I  had  a  "  ticket  " 
to  do  something  at  my  legitimate  game. 

But  destiny  again  interfered.  There  arrived 
another  minor  tragedy  of  a  life  in  which  there  had 
been  so  many  ups  and  downs.  Abelard  II.  was  put 
in  a  hurdle  race.  I  had  no  idea  that  he  could  stay 
and  this  race  was  lost  entirely  through  carelessness. 
Abelard  wouldn't  go  with  Jimmy  Hare  waiting  behind 
on  him  and  the  race  was  lost.  A  few  days  later  he  was 
engaged  in  the  Grand  Steeplechase  and  in  this  from 
flag  fall  Abelard  raced  away  on  his  own,  Jimmy  Hare 
being  quite  unable  to  stop  him.  At  one  time  he  was 
quite  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  in  front  and  at  no 
part  of  the  race  less  than  two  hundred  yards  to  the 
good.  He  won  in  a  trot,  and  no  one  was  more  surprised 
than  myself. 

237 


TOD  SLOAN 

After  the  race  Baron  Grenier  said  to  Mr  Harry  Van 
der  Poole,  "  Sloan  wants  his  licence,  doesn't  he  ?  " 
and  took  it  out  of  his  pocket.  There  it  was  in  black 
and  white  and  Harry  Van  der  Poole  reached  out  for  it, 
but  the  Baron  proceeded  to  tear  it  up  into  small  pieces, 
saying  as  he  did  so  :  "  Oh  yes  ;  Sloan  can  have  it ; 
here  it  is." 

I  can  hardly  speak  of  the  incident,  and  every  time 
I  thought  of  it  for  a  year  or  two  afterwards  a  lump 
would  come  into  my  throat  at  the  thought  of  what  I 
had  missed.  Nothing  would  satisfy  them  but  that 
there  had  been  something  queer  about  the  first  race. 
However  I  can  solemnly  state  that  no  one  has  ever 
been  more  innocent  than  myself  or  anyone  connected 
with  the  horse.  Simply  we  didn't  know  him  the  first 
time  and  Abelard  insisted  on  us  knowing  him  when  he 
ran  in  that  Steeplechase.  He  won  all  sorts  of  races 
on  the  flat  and  over  jumps,  and  the  last  event  he  ran  in 
in  Belgium  he  actually  carried  11-4  and  won. 

That  last  race  was  just  a  little  while  before  the 
Cambridgeshire.  It  will  be  remembered  that  in  that 
race  he  had  the  light  weight  of  6-9.  He  was  sent  over 
to  Newmarket  to  a  stable  where  the  trainer  owning  the 
establishment  did  his  very  best,  giving  him  one  of  the 
finest  boxes  in  the  place ;  but  Abelard  was  a  horse  of 
peculiar  temperament  and  character.  He  loved  soli- 
tude and  at  home  I  would  always  have  him  in  the 
quietest  part  of  the  yard.  As  it  happened,  at  New- 
market, although  his  quarters  were  so  good,  there  was 
a  noise  outside  his  box  with  the  lads  coming  and  going, 
rattling  buckets  and  so  on.  Nothing  was  better 
calculated  to  upset  this  sensitive  horse.  When  I 
arrived  in  Newmarket  on  the  day  of  the  race  two  or 
three  of  us  went  out  to  see  him,  and  I  was  rather 
shocked  at  his  appearance,  for  he  had  lost  nearly  fifty 

238 


ACQUIRING  ABELARD  II. 

pounds  in  weight.  His  chance  didn't  look  so  rosy.  Lord 
Torrington  had  backed  him  to  win  a  very  large  sum  at 
long  prices  and  there  was  still  a  chance  considering 
how  light  a  weight  he  had  to  carry.  Mr  Edwardes 
never  had  the  slightest  idea  of  his  winning  ;  in  fact  he 
ridiculed  me — but  he  hadn't  seen  the  way  Abelard 
had  won  his  races  in  Belgium.  Admitted  that  the 
class  there  is  below  that  of  England  and  France,  still 
when  a  horse  gives  stones  away  on  the  flat  to  quite 
useful  horses  it  must  be  taken  some  notice  of.  He 
never  showed  at  all  in  the  Cambridgeshire.  I  think 
his  rider  thought  that  the  horse  was  going  to  run  away 
with  him  or  something.  However  one  mustn't  blame 
him.  It  was  a  disappointment  nevertheless.  If 
Abelard  could  have  appeared  on  Newmarket  Heath 
that  Wednesday  in  the  same  fettle  as  he  was  in  on 
many  days  in  Belgium  he  would  have  made  a  different 
showing  ;  but  for  all  that  Christmas  Daisy  would  have 
wanted  beating  by  anything  in  training. 

George  Parfrement  had  ridden  in  the  Steeplechase 
in  Belgium  when  Abelard  had  won  and  was  determined 
in  the  Prix  des  Drags  at  Auteuil  not  to  let  our  horse 
get  so  far  away  from  him.  I  thought  he  was  sure  to 
fall  if  George  kept  to  this  tack  of  lying  on  his  heels. 
At  the  stone  wall  Abelard  pecked  and  his  rider 
was  shot  out  of  the  saddle  but  the  horse  did  not 
fall. 

After  the  Cambridgeshire  it  will  be  remembered 
that  Abelard  won  on  the  flat  and  his  performances 
after  over  hurdles  in  England  can  be  remembered. 

After  the  incident  of  the  tearing  up  of  the  licence  all 
hope  seemed  at  an  end  about  obtaining  anything.  It 
seemed  to  me  almost  persecution,  for  a  full  explana- 
tion could  have  been  given,  but  of  course  I  had  no 

239 


TOD  SLOAN 

status  in  regard  to  the  horse,  and  was  not  given  a 
chance.     I  was  not  the  only  sufferer,  however. 

About  this  time  there  was  an  Enghshman  in 
Belgium,  a  young  trainer,  well  educated,  a  good  fellow 
and  a  veterinary  surgeon  by  profession  although  he 
did  not  practise.  For  some  reason  or  other  he  could 
not  obtain  a  licence  in  France  and  came  to  Belgium 
to  try  his  luck  there.  But  he  met  with  all  sorts  of 
rebuffs  and  the  endeavour  seemed  hopeless.  \Miat 
was  it  ?  There  was  a  whisper  that  he  understood  too 
much  about  "  dope  " — a  disgraceful  allegation.  The 
bar  was  up  in  France  and  it  seemed  that  he  would  find 
it  up  perpetually  in  Belgium  too.  Time  went  on  with 
apparently  no  relaxing  on  the  part  of  the  Stewards. 
At  last,  through  very  strong  inside  influence,  that  of  a 
big  shareholder  I  think  at  one  of  the  race-tracks,  the 
Englishman  obtained  permission.  The  trouble  then 
was  to  obtain  a  horse  or  two.  Eventually  he  got  hold 
of  one — a  very  bad  actor  and  not  an  enviable  animal 
to  make  a  start  with.  He  took  any  amount  of  trouble, 
however,  with  this  "  one  and  only  "  and  won  the  first 
five  races  the  horse  ran  in  !  Then  followed  more 
persecution  :  after  each  of  these  five  races  there  was 
an  objection  lodged  and  all  of  them  overruled.  Can 
you  beat  it  ?  In  some  cases  it  was  a  charge  of  "  dope  " 
and  in  others  something  trivial.  However,  he  had 
shown  what  he  could  do,  and  a  few  more  horses  came 
to  him ;  while  in  the  following  season  he  had  more 
offered  to  him  than  he  could  train,  having  a  grand 
string  and  winning  any  amount  of  races. 

That  man  is  George  Newton,  who  now  is  private 
trainer  in  France  for  Mr  Stern.  He  has  the  confidence 
of  his  owner  and  all  those  he  comes  in  touch  with. 
Good  luck  to  him  for  the  pluck  he  had  in  fighting  on 
and  on  and — beating  'em. 

240 


At  thi:  Carlton  Hotel,  Nice 

I9'3 


THE  lOTOCK 

An  Englishman  or  an  American  soon  gets  used  to  life 
abroad,  but  when  so  many  things  can  occur  in  private 
"  talks  "  among  the  ruling  body,  and  all  sorts  of  things 
are  listened  to  which  there  is  no  chance  of  denying,  I 
ask  you,  what  can  be  done  ? 

After  that  Abelard  incident  as  fast  as  I  wanted  to 
explain  and  felt  convinced  I  could,  all  the  time  a  lot  of 
backbiters,  who  would  abuse  the  friendship  of  anyone, 
gave  me  "  the  knock."  Some  of  them  had  not  seen 
either  race  !  Jimmy  Hare,  now  training  in  England, 
will  say  what  he  knows  and  how  unjustifiable  it  all 
was. 


21-1 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE   THEODORE   MYERS   STABLE 

Kaufmann's  Methods— Mr  Myers'  Success— In  April  191 5 

Surely  there  never  was  a  more  preposterous  system 
established  than  that  of  the  Societe  d' Encouragement 
in  France,  when  they  engaged  Professor  Kaufmann. 
The  Austrian  Jockey  Club  had  been  the  first  to  start 
the  business  of  examining  the  saliva  of  race-horses  after 
a  race  in  the  search  for  traces  of  drugs  which  might 
have  been  administered  to  a  horse.     Kaufmann  came 
to  Paris  with  his  theories  and  his  assistants,  and  was 
engaged   straight   away   and   went   about   his   work. 
There  was  no  great  inquiry  as  to  whether  his  system 
was  infallible  ;   he  was  just  launched  on  his  policeman 
work.     Just  fancy  an  Austrian  squad,  able  to  make  full 
inquiries  about  everything  going  on  in  France,  gomg  to 
all  the  race  meetings,  including  some  adjonnng  impor- 
tant fortified  places.     This  is  no  charge  that  he  or  any 
of  his  assistants  were  spying.     But  what  a  change 
between  then  and  now.     What  a  hoist  an  Austrian 
would  get  at  the  time  of  writing  (early  in  1915)  if  he 
tried  to  nose  into  everything  in  France,  both  on  and 
off  a    race-course!     Things   have    certainly    altered. 
They  would  have  kissed  him  then  ;   they  might  lynch 

him  now. 

It  will  be  scarcely  believable  to  those  who  do  not 
know  that  after  the  appointment  of  Professor  Kauf- 
mann all  the  examinations  were  at  first  m  secret. 
Eventually,  after  many  complaints,  the  trainer  was 

242 


KAUFMANN'S  METHODS 

allowed  to  be  present.  But  to  start  off  there  might 
as  well  have  been  no  owner  and  no  trainer,  for  all 
connected  with  a  horse  were  kept  outside.  What  an 
outrage  !  Many  a  good  horse  too  has  been  ruined 
while  standing  there  sweating  after  a  race  without  a 
rub-down  or  being  rugged  up  until  the  wonderful 
professor  or  his  crew  arrived  from  the  weighing 
enclosure  or  buffet.  TOien  the  swabbing  out  was 
done  the  horse  was  turned  over  to  his  lad. 

Small  wonder  that  some  trainers  went  almost  crazy 
with  rage  at  the  treatment  their  horses  received,  and 
at  the  time  mentioned,  when  such  as  Denman,  the 
Carters,  the  Cunningtons,  in  fact  all  trainers,  had  to 
cool  their  heels  while  their  horses  cooled  and  got 
chilled — well,  it  was  unspeakable. 

Was  Kaufmann  right  in  what  he  was  supposed  to 
find  out  ?  Wlio  can  say  !  He  had  to  do  something 
to  justify  himself  and  the  blame  is  not  so  much  his  as 
those  who  countenanced  such  proceedings.  And  what 
ridiculous  happenings  there  were  too  ! 

Take  the  case  of  Bonbon  Rose.  The  pari-mutuel 
paid  out  over  the  race — over  Bonbon  Rose  of  course — 
but  when  the  result  of  the  "  test  "  was  known  the 
horse  was  disqualified  and  the  stake  given  to  the 
second.  M.  de  Monbel  very  rightly  brought  an  action 
to  recover  the  stake.  Now  in  all  countries  bets  follow 
stakes,  so  the  backers  of  the  second  should  have  been 
able  to  "  touch."  It  seems  too  absurd  that  there 
should  have  been  heavy  winners  over  an  animal  which 
never  got  the  race. 

Again,  why  weren't  the  second  and  third  also  ex- 
amined by  the  Specialist  ?  The  manner  employed 
was  to  pick  any  horse  out  promiscuously  and  make  a 
test :  no  trainer  knew  when  his  would  be  up  for  it. 

To  administer  drugs  to  a  horse  is  "  doping."     For 

243 


TOD  SLOAN 

the  sake  of  argument,  however,  let  it  be  considered 
whether  leaving  a  certain  number  of  kola  nuts  about 
on  the  grass  for  a  horse  to  pick  up  if  he  liked  is  "  ad- 
ministering dope  "  or  not.  Some  horses  would  pick 
them  up  readily  enough  while  others  would  not  touch 
them.  If  a  horse  gets  what  he  likes,  therefore,  and 
that  which  stimulates  or  sustains  him — is  that  doping 
him  ?  Athletes  nibble  a  piece  of  kola  nut  and  are 
encouraged  to  extra  exertion.  What  is  good  for  a 
man  cannot  be  harmful  to  a  horse.  Mind,  I  am  only 
putting  a  case  for  argument.  Some  horses  like  dande- 
lions and  others  don't.  I  am  not  sure  but  that  dande- 
lions might  give  a  result  on  analysis  which  might 
suggest  that  something  beyond  "  real  grub  "  had  been 
given  to  a  horse.  I  hope  those  who  read  this  will  chew 
it  all  over. 

My  first  venture  in  having  any  connection  in  horses 
with  Mr  Theodore  Myers,  Ex-Controller  of  New  York, 
was  one  day  at  Auteuil.  It  was  a  horse  I  wanted  to 
buy  and  found  I  had  only  about  three  thousand  francs, 
the  price  being  about  six  thousand  francs.  I  asked 
Mr  Myers  if  he  had  any  money  on  him  to  make  up  the 
sum.  He  told  me  that  he  would  put  up  the  other  half 
and  go  in  partnership  over  him,  but  that  the  horse 
must  run  in  his  name  and  colours.  That  was  all  right, 
in  fact  just  as  it  should  be.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a 
very  pleasant  association,  and  from  first  to  last  a  good 
number  of  horses  passed  through  our  hands.  At  one 
time  we  had  nearly  thirty  horses  in  the  stable  near 
Brussels  and  Ross  Adams  was  the  resident  trainer. 
Mr  Myers  became  very  fond  of  the  horses,  indeed  of 
the  whole  business,  and  was  tireless  in  asking  questions 
about  each  of  them.  What  could  they  do  ?  Wliere 
and  when  were  they  likely  to  run  ?     What  sort  of 

244 


MR  MYERS'  SUCCESS 

chance  did  they  possess  ?  Of  course  there  were  the 
many  disappointments  inseparable  from  a  racing 
stable.  Of  those  now  remaining  Mr  Myers'  property 
are  two  mares,  Chester  and  Jonquille.  With  more 
careful  training  the  latter,  a  grey,  might  have  turned 
out  anything  :  she  was  a  perfect  beauty  as  a  two-year- 
old  when  we  bought  her. 

Tliere  was  one  race  which  she  won  at  Maisons 
Laflfitte  over  which  I  am  afraid  both  Mr  Myers  and 
myself  made  some  bad  friends.  The  going  was  not 
exactly  in  her  favour  and  she  was  so  badly  drawn — in 
fact  in  a  position  on  the  other  side  of  the  course,  from 
which  very  few  if  any  win.  How  could  either  of  us 
therefore  give  one  point  of  encouragement  to  inquiring 
friends  ! 

It  seemed  any  odds  against.  I  fancy  someone  put 
on  a  hundred  francs  for  me,  but  I  would  not  waste  a 
shilling  of  my  own  over  her — in  the  circumstances. 
Mr  Myers  had  a  few  hundred  francs  on  her.  She  was 
his  animal  and  he  was  a  rich  man  so  he  had  a  right  to 
indulge  in  a  hobby.  She  won  at  a  big  price,  Johnny 
Reiff  just  getting  the  filly  home.  Then  started  the 
"  rat-tats."  "  Why  hadn't  we  told  them  ?  "  I  never 
heard  the  end  of  it  that  afternoon,  nor  the  next  day 
either ;  it  was  always  coming  at  me  from  one  and 
another.  It  was  no  use  telling  the  truth  for  I  was  dis- 
believed, and  in  fact  charged  with  misleading  inquirers, 
these  including  many  old  friends,  some  of  whom  gave 
me  the  cold  shoulder  ever  afterwards,  and  some  of 
whom  I  cut  out  for  being  so  surly  about  it.  This  may 
not  be  so  interesting  to  English  readers,  but  the  case  is 
of  the  kind  that  many  others  have  experienced  on  a 
race-course.  It  would  have  been  madness  to  encourage 
them  to  back  the  mare  :  in  fact  I  was  on  a  hiding  to 
nothing  whatever  happened. 

245 


TOD  SLOAN 

It  is  a  most  difficult  thing  too  to  give  an  owner  the 
right  idea  when  to  bet  and  when  not  to,  especially 
when  that  man  has  not  been  racing  all  his  life.  Half  a 
suggestion  by  a  trainer  to  an  experienced  owner  is 
enough  sometimes  ;  the  latter  will  take  the  responsi- 
bility on  himself  and  kick  afterwards.  So  many 
owners  and  trainers  have  fallen  out  over  this,  some 
being  too  hopeful  while  others  hate  to  have  any  hand 
in  making  a  suggestion.  If  the  owner  is  a  betting 
man  there  is  frequently  a  better  time  afterwards  when 
advising  a  failure  than  when  a  man  of  non-speculation 
has  an  occasional  small  flutter  and  it  goes  down. 

I  am  afraid  Mr  Myers  thought  I  was  over-confident 
sometimes  and  he  would  say  so  on  occasions — after  a 
race — but  always  cheerfully.  Archie  Maclntyre,  now 
in  Roumania,  rode  a  good  deal  for  us ;  also  others  ; 
and  there  was  frequently  a  race  thrown  away  through 
not  following  orders.  I  don't  believe  in  hampering 
a  boy  with  too  many  instructions,  but  in  the  case  of 
horses  of  peculiar  temperaments — well,  I  studied  this 
more  than  many  did. 

Taking  them  all  round,  they  were  a  cheap  lot  of 
horses  Mr  Myers  had,  but  they  could  win  all  the  same. 
By  degrees,  however,  Mr  Myers  got  tired  of  racing  and 
weeded  out  the  stable,  selling  some  and  giving  away 
others  until  finally  he  gave  it  all  up,  only  keeping  the 
two  mentioned  for  breeding  purposes. 

When  all  those  pleasant  days  in  Brussels  are  re- 
membered it  is  a  terrible  thing  to  think  of  all  the 
places  we  went  to  and  spent  such  a  happy  time  in 
being  swept  away  and  gone  for  a  long  time,  so  far  as 
racing  is  concerned.  In  its  way  Belgium  was  a  para- 
dise for  a  small  owner  :  he  could  have  a  chance  with 
moderate-priced  horses  and  back  them  at  fair  odds  too, 
thus  helping  him  to  make  it  pay ;  whether  racing  will 

246 


IN  APRIL  1915 

be  revived  again  is  one  of  those  puzzles  we  in  the  spring 
of  1915  cannot  solve. 

A  few  lucky  owners  managed  to  get  away  with  a 
few  of  their  horses  to  England,  and  to  win  races  too. 
The  Belgian-bred  stock  were  improving  every  year 
there  is  no  doubt,  and  racing  was  going  the  right  way 
quite.  Of  course  expensive  sires  could  not  be  pur- 
chased, but  good  results  can  be  obtained  without 
extravagance.  It  is  not  necessary  to  specify  horses, 
but  one  of  the  first  things  all  true  lovers  of 
racing  will  wish  for  is  that  racing  be  restored.  This 
sounds  empty  as  it  is  written  but — who  knows  !  It 
will  be  curious  in  future  years  to  read  what  was  written 
in  April  1915  ! 


247 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

SOME   MINOR   SUCCESSES 

A  Doctor's  Advice — Rehearsing  an  Operation — Great  Night  at  Ostend — 

What  Hanlon  did  for  me 

One  of  those  charming  friends  who  had  helped  in 
every  possible  way  in  Brussels  in  all  I  tried  to  do  and 
who  looked  after  my  health  was  Dr  Bouhlle.  He  was 
one  of  the  best  friends  I  had  in  that  country.  He 
would  give  me  such  excellent  advice  in  regard  to  my 
health  and  some  excellent  "  man  of  the  world  " 
pointers  as  to  what  I  should  do.  He  was  medical 
officer  to  the  Jockey  Club  there  and  had  naturally  a 
certain  amount  of  influence.  I  cannot  thank  him 
enough  for  his  dozens  of  acts  of  friendship.  I  have 
always  made  friends  with  medical  men. 

At  the  Cecil  in  London  in  1899  I  was  suffering,  as  I 
thought,  from  nervous  breakdown,  and  I  was  sure  of 
the  insomnia,  for  sleep  was  next  to  impossible.  The 
Prince  of  Wales  was  told  of  it,  and  suggested  to  Lord 
William  Beresford  to  send  me  to  Sir  Francis  Laking ; 
the  latter  was  told  that  I  was  coming  to  consult  him. 
He  thoroughly  examined  me  and  certainly  I  had 
fallen  away,  not  weighing  an  ounce  more  than  6-7. 
Sir  Francis  was  most  amiable  to  me,  asked  me  a  lot  of 
questions  about  myself,  and  was  quite  a  delightful 
man  to  talk  to.  His  verdict  was  that  I  was  in  bad 
case  and  must  rest  up  for  at  least  two  months.  I 
ought  to  go  away,  he  said,  and  be  looked  after  by  a 
trained  nurse.  He  told  me  also  that  he  would  leave 
the  choice  of  a  sanatorium  to  me.     I  listened  very 

248 


C       C 


a: 
< 


o 

as 


"2^ 


A  DOCTOR'S  ADVICE 

attentively  to  him,  but  eventually  stiiick  in  with  : 
"  I  have  to  ride  in  the  Derby  next  week.  I  must ;  I 
have  the  chance  of  a  good  mount." 

Sir  Francis  expostulated  with  me  on  the  madness 
of  it,  and  told  me  that  he  would  not  be  responsible 
for  anything  which  might  happen.  He  was  very 
emphatic. 

Of  course  I  rode  in  the  Derby.  It  shows  what  one 
can  do  in  a  fanciful  mood.  I  know  that  when  I  have 
been  broke  I  have  had  no  hallucinations — is  that  the 
right  word  ? — about  being  ill,  but  on  a  big  earning 
capacity  and  with  a  full  bank  I  often  found  myself 
nervous  about  my  heart,  my  lungs,  my — well,  especi- 
ally the  former.  It  was  very  delightful  of  the  Prince 
of  Wales  to  mention  to  Lord  William  that  there  was 
just  the  odd  interest  taken  by  him  in  my  health.  It 
was  just  on  a  par  with  all  he  did  for  those  he  took  any 
passing  or  permanent  interest  in.  I  must  add  too  that 
Lord  William  used  to  say  to  me  :  "  Little  man,  you 
must  look  after  yourself  " — and  this  wasn't  because 
he  wanted  me  to  do  nothing  but  ride  for  him  ;  it  was 
something  altogether  above  that — a  great  good  man's 
interest.  Would  to  God  he  had  lived  !  And  I  will 
go  further — I  cannot  think  but  that  had  he  lived  some 
greater  consideration — if  only  in  a  spirit  of  clemency — 
would  have  been  extended  to  me.  God  !  it  is  a 
terrible  thing  to  be  barred  for  life.  What  can  be  the 
reason  of  it  all  ?  Surely  someone  must  realise  the 
fierce  difficulties  of  living  without  a  licence  to  follow 
one's  calling. 

Going  back  to  doctors  and  surgeons  I  must  here  put 
down  my  heartfelt  thanks  to  all  of  them,  for  I  do  not 
suppose  that  the  fees  I  have  had  to  pay  have  amounted 
to  more  than  one  hundred  pounds  in  my  life — and  I 
was  a  bit  of  an  "  inquirer  "  on  the  "  ailment  stakes." 

249 


TOD  SLOAN 

Dr  Bull  and  Dr  Jannaway  of  New  York  were  very- 
kind  when  I  thought  that  I  had  an  affection  of  the 
heart,  but  they  both  at  different  times  gave  me  a 
clean  bill  of  health. 

Dr  A.  C.  Bernays  of  St  Louis  was  perhaps  one  of  the 
greatest  personalities  among  surgeons  whom  I  ever 
met.  I  was  privileged  to  become  a  great  friend  of  his 
and  had  the  opportunity  of  studying  one  of  the  clever- 
est surgeons  in  America.  It  is  far  more  interesting  to 
state  some  facts  about  the  man  than  to  remember  any 
small  or  great  thing  which  he  ever  did  for  me.  A.  C. 
Bernays,  I  believe,  performed  the  most  marvellous 
feats  in  surgery  that  the  scientific  world  has  ever 
known.  He  had  the  wonderful  case  in  his  charge  of 
the  woman  who  had  been  shot  three  times  through  the 
brain  by  her  husband — who  was  condemned  and 
executed,  by  the  way. 

The  woman  lasted  four  days  by  the  most  wonderful 
feat  of  surgical  jugglery — forgive  the  word — and  Dr 
Bernays  actually  had  her  talking  for  a  few  minutes  on 
the  third  day  ;  but  of  course  she  was  doomed  and  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  life  should  have  died  on  the 
same  night  as  she  was  shot,  but — A.  C.  Bernays  ruled 
otherwise.  In  connection  with  this  case  the  surgeon's 
claim  against  the  estate  of  the  deceased  man  and 
woman  was  disputed.  It  was  a  question  of  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  The  administrators  were  against 
it  but  eventually  "  Doc  "  Bernays  made  good  his 
right.  He  had  sat  up  with  the  wife  watching  her  un- 
ceasingly for  four  days  and  nights,  and  this  was  taken 
into  consideration.  He  had  ruined  his  health,  but 
had  achieved  a  triumph  for  surgery.  The  whole 
details  of  what  he  had  done  were  given  in  the  scientific 
journals. 

When  a  great  Congress  of  medical  men  was  held — I 

250 


REHEARSING  AN  OPERATION 

think  in  Berlin — Dr  Bernays  performed  a  most 
wonderful  operation  on  the  spot  which  was  reported 
everywhere  and  staggered  those  present  by  its  skill 
and  originality.  It  may  seem  strange  that  I  could 
take  so  much  interest  in  it  all,  but  I  knew  the  man 
and  what  he  could  do. 

I  had  an  extra  knowledge  of  him  from  my  repeated 
conversations  with  him  :  he  would  find  a  ready  and 
willing  listener  in  me  at  all  times.  He  would  some- 
times say  :  "  Tod,  I  have  an  operation  to  do  to- 
morrow morning  which  I  have  never  had  before,  with 
all  my  experience.  I  will  tell  you  what  it  is,  and  what 
I  am  going  to  do."  Then  he  would  rehearse  it  and  I 
would  sit  silent  and  wondering  at  the — what  shall  I 
call  it  ? — the  genius  of  the  man.  It  was  flattering  to 
me  to  have  his  confidence  and  I  more  than  half  under- 
stood what  he  was  talking  about. 

WTiat  a  loss  to  everything  and  everybody  he  was 
when  he  died  !  He  was  quite  a  young  man,  not  much 
over  fiftv.  Given  the  chances  and  the  education,  I 
have  often  thought  that  I  should  have  liked  to  be  a 
doctor.  Fancy  "Dr  Sloan"  on  the  brass  plate  out- 
side !  I  couldn't  have  stood  the  "  old  ladies' 
physician  "  stunt,  but  real  practical  surgery,  lunacy 
cases  or  something  exciting  I  feel  I  should  have  made 
a  mark  at.  But  what's  the  use  of  thinking — I  was  only 
a  jockey  and  now  am  ex- jockey,  a  would-be  trainer,  a 
would-be  at  many  things  !  As  a  child  I  learned  an 
old  saying  about  "  making  your  bed  and  lying  on  it  " 
— but  in  all  honesty  others  tucked  in  those  hard  sheets 
I  had  to  make  acquaintance  with.  I'm  not  wailing 
nor  snivelling  ;  but  that  I  should  have  to  go  through 
life  without  that  chance  I  have  prayed  and  longed 
for  seems  too  terrible. 


251 


TOD   SLOAN 

In  a  previous  chapter  I  have  mentioned  Sir  Tatwell 
Thomas  of  Liverpool,  who  kindlj^  attended  me  at  the 
request  of  Lord  Derby,  then  Lord  Stanley.  His  lord- 
ship kindly  gave  me  a  carriage  to  take  me  to  the 
Adelphi  Hotel,  Liverpool.  It  was  after  the  accident 
when  riding  Maluma.  My  ear  was  nearly  off,  and  I 
was  in  great  pain.  I  was  put  in  a  cot  in  my  bedroom 
and  the  great  surgeon  came  to  me.  He  refused  to 
perform  the  operation  without  chloroform  ;  in  fact  he 
said  he  couldn't  with  success  or  justice  to  himself. 
He  had  a  medical  man  Avith  him  to  administer  it,  but 
when  I  had  the  first  whiff  I  showed  fight  and 
threatened  all  sorts  of  things  if  it  were  gone  on  with. 
I  was  such  a  fresh  kid  !     I  was  in  agony,  however. 

Sir  Tatwell  then  began  putting  in  the  stitches  one 
after  the  other  until  I  counted  ten.  "  Can  I  speak  to 
you  ?  "  I  asked.  "  If  you  want  to  make  me  happy, 
you'll  leave  off  at  that  and  not  put  a  single  one  more 
in." 

"  Perhaps  that's  enough,"  he  answered.  "  At  all 
events  we'll  make  it  do." 

Looking  back  I  can  remember  all  the  details  exactly, 
and  my  suffering.  I  think  if  he  had  gone  on  another 
minute  my  heart  would  have  given  out.  As  it  was, 
when  I  got  up  off  the  cot,  my  knees  collapsed  and  a 
friend  who  was  with  me  and  the  surgeon  had  to  lift 
me  up — I  was  down  and  out. 

I  hope  these  little  personal  incidents  will  not  annoy 
a  public,  who  perhaps  wants  to  hear  some  more  excit- 
ing details  of  other  people,  but  this  is  after  all  "  Tod 
Sloan,"  and  must  be  told  if  only  as  an  appreciation  of 
what  others  have  done  for  me.  In  very  truth  the 
greatest  possible  kindnesses  have  been  received  from 
the  greatest  in  their  profession. 


252 


GREAT  NIGHT  AT  OSTEND 

I  have  been  wandering  from  Belgium  but  several 
other  Belgian  incidents  must  be  mentioned.  A  few 
seasons  back  I  arrived  in  Ostend  without  a  sou. 
Something  had  to  be  done  and  with  a  horse  or  two  I 
managed  to  rake  a  few  thousand  francs  together  to 
make  things  go  easier.  There  was  racing  and  a  little 
bit  of  baccarat  and  chemin  de  fer,  but  the  bulk  of  a 
"  young  "  bank  roll  came  in  from  the  course.  It  grew 
and  grew  until  one  night  I  went  into  the  Casino  with, 
I  suppose,  about  fifteen  thousand  francs.  A  few  odd 
bets  and  it  swelled  up  to  nearly  twenty  thousand. 
Mr  Gaston  Dreyfus,  the  French  owner,  was  in  the 
bank  and  I  called  him  "  banco  "  for  eighteen  thousand 
francs.  He  looked  at  me  for  a  few  seconds  and  then 
"  passed  "  the  bank.  It  was  handed  round  the  table 
until  I  took  it  at  the  eighteen  thousand  and  had  a  pass 
of  three  !  My  winnings  that  night  were  about  one 
hundred  thousand  francs.  A  night  or  two  after  I 
called  a  thirty-two-thousand -franc  "  banco  "  when 
M.  Brodsky  was  in  the  bank,  and  he  passed  it.  I  took 
it  and  had  a  pass  of  three.  That  was  another  great 
evening  !  I  lived  on  the  best  and  did  what  I  could 
for  those  less  fortunate.  It  shows  you  what  luck  is, 
for  in  that  time  I  accumulated  a  packet  and  then  in 
the  last  three  nights  I  lost  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  francs.  All  the  same  after  paying  up  every- 
thing I  had  a  nice  wad  of  ninety  thousand  francs  to 
take  back  to  Paris  for  the  autumn  racing. 

The  first  thing  to  do  was  to  get  a  flat,  and  I  took  a 
furnished  appartement  at  1  Rue  de  Messine  at  one 
thousand  francs,  or  forty  pounds,  a  month,  paying 
three  months  in  advance.  It  was  just  as  well  that  I 
did.  I  bought  a  brand-new  Gobron  car  for  eighteen 
thousand  francs.  There  was  the  chauffeur  to  pay 
and  two  servants  and — other  details.     I  entertained 

253 


TOD  SLOAN 

and  loved  it  all,  but  could  I  keep  the  money  ?  Not  a 
bit  of  it.  I  was  broke  in  three  weeks  and  had  to 
"  look  around." 

When  the  racing  was  over  in  Paris  I  wanted  to  go 
to  St  Moritz,  Switzerland  calling  us  that  winter.  The 
car  was  sold  and  small  debts  paid  up.  After  all  what 
did  it  matter !  there  was  always  the  chance.  So 
tickets  were  taken  for  St  Moritz  for  a  friend,  a  valet 
and  my  dog — the  west  of  Scotland  white  terrier  which 
will  be  seen  in  various  pictures.  I  had  only  about 
fifty  pounds  in  my  pocket,  but  the  idea  of  a  holiday 
was  everything. 

We  lived  the  outdoor  life  and  played  bridge  in  the 
evening.  Things  ran  well  for  me  and  I  won  on  that 
trip  about  eight  hundred  pounds — at  bridge  only. 
It  shows  you  that,  despite  a  drop  of  over  ninety 
thousand  francs  to  about  one  thousand  francs,  one 
should  never  despair.  There's  nothing  like  getting 
used  to  the  ups  and  downs.  Those  who  gamble  can 
always  hope. 

Of  all  the  games  of  cards  I  have  played  in  my  life 
there  has  never  been  a  game  that  appealed  to  me  so 
much  as  bridge.  We  used  to  play  the  old  game  in 
London  and  elsewhere — but  the  comparatively  new 
Auction  Bridge  :  surely  there  was  never  anything  like 
it  !  Its  fascination  beats  that  of  all  the  other  games 
of  chance  and  skill  which  have  ever  been  devised. 
American  billiards  always  fascinated,  and  then  came 
my  learning  of  the  English  game,  at  which  my  Editor 
tells  me  I  play  pretty  well.  At  all  events  I  can 
beat  him  readily  enough — or  so  he  says !  "  Solo  " 
had  its  fascinations,  poker  its  late  hours  and  un- 
satisfactory endings,  with  sometimes  no  one  satisfied ; 
but  give  me  the  thrills  of  bridge  with  a  satisfactory 
partner !     Carrying  a   "  dud,"  however,  and   having 

234 


WHAT  HANLON  DID  FOR  ME 

to  lift  him  out  of  trouble  time  after  time  isn't 
funny. 

In  writing  all  this  I  am  afraid  I  have  wandered  a 
good  deal  from  the  story  of  my  life,  but  the  various 
topics  have  to  be  taken  up  as  thought  of  or  suggested, 
and  the  distraction  of  cards  and  dominoes  can  help  us 
to  keep  our  sanity  on  occasions.  I  do  not  intend  to 
suggest  that  there  has  ever  been  a  suspicion  of  any- 
thing in  the  way  of  "  Pots  "  or  "  Bug-house  "  in  our 
family,  but  anyone  who  has  a  big  nervous  strain  is 
liable  to  want  something  to  take  the  attention  off  more 
serious  topics. 

I  have  met  many  great  players  at  bridge,  have 
watched  their  peculiarities  and  have  studied  how  they 
played  the  game.  A  man  can  so  easily  start  off  with 
the  best  possible  ideas  about  prudence  and  then  be 
spurred  to  risk.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are 
"  pikers  "  at  the  game  who  have  no  audacity  and  will 
see  opponents  win  a  game  where  a  little  courage  would 
get  them  out  of  a  hole.  There  are  books  and  theories 
but  there  is  nothing  like  practice  and  encouragement. 

Speaking  of  the  latter — encouragement — perhaps  I 
should  have  never  gone  on  with  race  riding  many  years 
ago  but  for  the  comforting  words  of  Charles  Hanlon. 
It  is  almost  entirely  due  to  him  that  I  persevered  with 
the  forward  seat.  It  was  he  who  dissuaded  me  from 
going  on  the  stage  and  made  me  stick  to  riding.  He 
encouraged  others  too,  and  America  has  a  lot  to  thank 
him  for  in  the  way  he  could  discriminate  between 
what  would  be  for  the  benefit  of  the  Turf  and  what 
would  not.  He  combined  intelligence  with  a  manner 
and  a  way  of  speaking  which  anyone  had  to  listen  to. 
His  picture  will  give  some  idea  of  the  kind  of  man  he 
was. 


255 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

MY   DOG    PIPER 

"Has  anyone  seen  Piper?" — Piper  and  the  German — All  I  was  fit  for 

I  CANNOT  think  how  I  have  resisted  so  long  the  tempta- 
tion to  talk  about  my  dog  Piper.  More  than  one 
photograph  of  him  appears  in  the  book.  Some  dogs 
are  merely  dogs,  but  Piper  was  Piper— an  individual, 
an  inseparable  companion,  my  pal  !  Mind  you,  some- 
tim.es  it  happens  that  dogs  can  be  "  general  " — that 
is,  have  too  many  friends,  and  in  this  Piper  somewhat 
erred.  I  never  knew  exactly  when  to  expect  him 
back  when  he  disappeared,  and  on  occasions  he  never 
gave  me  the  slightest  indication  when  he  was  going. 
When  he  broke  away  on  his  own  "  jag  "  he  would 
come  around  after  and  begin  his  hunt  for  me  :  why,  I 
wonder,  did  he  start  all  round  the  bar-rooms  of  Paris 
on  the  off-chance  of  finding  me  ?  He  knew  my  haunts, 
I  suppose.  And  he  would  go  mad  when  at  last  he  ran 
me  to  earth.  Still,  he  was  such  a  casual  fellow  that  I 
would  never  make  too  much  fuss  of  him  when  he 
found  me,  pretending  to  be  rather  offended  when  he 
picked  me  up — offended  at  his  being  so  offhanded 
during  the  previous  day  or  two.  He  "  twigged  "  it 
all  right  and  would  try  and  ingratiate  himself  by  every 
dog  sign  of  affection  and  "  playing  up." 

With  all  his  sagacity  and  devotion  Piper  was  a 
"  dam-fool "  dog  if  it  comes  to  that,  for  he  was  crazy 
on  automobiling,  and  would  take  the  chance  of  being 
kidnapped  for  an  odd  ride.     That  is  how  the  grievous 

256 


Shootinc;  Ci.av  I'kikons  at  St.  Mokitz 


HAS  ANYONE  SEEN  PIPER  ? 

end  came.  One  day  I  was  going  to  the  American 
Express  office  and  saw  Piper  fooling  about  with  some 
of  his  own  countrymen,  Highland  officers,  standing 
alongside  their  cars  by  the  Grand  Hotel.  I  didn't 
take  any  notice,  thinking  he  would  follow  me.  He 
wasn't  there  when  I  came  back,  so  I  thought  he  had 
gone  home,  or  at  all  events  that  he  was  somewhere  on 
his  "  rounds."  Tliere  was  no  necessity  to  bother  about 
him,  for  he  had  frequently  disappeared  for  a  couple  of 
days  at  a  time.  On  this  occasion,  however,  I  waited 
and  waited  without  any  news  of  him.  All  the  police 
stations  were  notified  and  every  effort  was  made  to 
find  him,  but  without  success,  and  a  friend  of  three 
and  a  half  years  was  lost  to  me.  I  can  only  suppose 
that  he  jumped  in  one  of  the  cars  which  was  going  off 
and  the  Highlanders  must  have  thought  that  they  had 
a  mascot  which  could  not  be  turned  out  without  risk 
to  their  luck. 

If  this  should  happen  to  be  seen  in  print  by  any  of 
them,  and  Piper  is  in  the  land  of  the  living,  I  am 
quite  sure  that  he  would  be  restored  to  me  in 
Paris,  for  it  is  almost  a  certainty  that  he  is  in 
France. 

The  history  of  the  dog  is  that  he  may  have  been 
stolen  in  England  long  before  I  got  hold  of  him.  The 
tale  of  the  man  who  first  made  the  sale  was  that  he 
had  won  the  gold  medal  in  Cardiff,  beating  sixteen  other 
West  Highland  terriers.  Eventually  he  found  his  way 
to  France.  Whether  he  swam  or  hid  himself  on  a 
boat  is  not  known ;  at  all  events  Captain  Langford  of 
the  Travellers'  Club  gave  him  to  Lucien  Lyne,  who 
asked  me  to  look  after  him  for  a  few  days.  The 
following  week  Lyne  asked  me :  "  How's  the  dog 
behaving  ?  " 

I  made  a  face  and  answered : 
R  257 


TOD  SLOAN 

"  I've  seen  some  ill-behaved  dogs  in  my  time,  but 
this  one  is  the  limit." 

"Then  you  keep  the  dam  dog,"  answered  Lucien 
—and  I  did.  Of  course  I  had  been  kidding  Lucien, 
who,  however,  never  rapped  me  about  it  afterwards. 

Piper  was  perhaps  the  best-known  dog  on  the 
Continent,  being  able  to  find  his  way  all  over  Nice, 
Monte  Carlo,  St  Moritz,  Paris,  Brussels  and  Ostend. 
I  am  certain  that  he  knew  one  place  from  another, 
and  he  knew  very  well  where  I  stayed  in  each  place. 
He  was  a  wonderful  traveller  too.  When  we  boarded 
a  train  he  would  go  under  the  seat  straight  away, 
either  in  a  compartment  or  a  sleeping-car,  and  would 
never  be  seen  until  we  arrived  at  our  destination, 
when  he  would  stretch  himself  and  trot  out  on  the 
platform  and  wait  for  me. 

Talking  about  "  stretching,"  I  could  make  him  yawn 
whenever  I  wanted  to.  I  needed  only  to  gape  and 
pretend  to  yawn  to  make  him  open  his  mouth,  all 
the  time  making  a  most  fearsome  noise  ;  it  was  funny.* 

Piper  never  cared  much  for  women  ;  they  could 
scarcely  ever  induce  him  to  go  to  them  ;  and  he  would 
never  make  friends  with  young  children  ;  at  some  time 
or  other  some  child  must  have  earned  his  contempt. 
Many  of  my  friends,  however,  were  just  as  fond  of  him 
as  I  was,  and  I  was  asked  for  him  by  many.  I  wish 
now  that  I  had  given  him  to  Henry  Tepe  ("  Henry  ") 
in  the  Rue  Volney,  for  he  was  so  fond  of  that  dog  and 
so  was  Piper  of  him. 

I  was  approached  once  by  a  certain  Count  in  Belgium 
as  to  how  much  I  would  demand  for  Piper's  stud  fee, 
the  Crown  Princess  Stephanie  having  some  prize 
bitches.  I  said  they  were  welcome  to  Piper  for  a 
time,   and   I  was  promised  half  one  litter.     But   it 

1  You  should  see  and  hear  Tod's  imitation  of  it. — Editor. 

258 


WriH   Mv  Dog.    I'ii'KR.   at  St.  Mokii/. 


PIPER  AND  THE  GERMAN 

proved  to  be  like  many  other  promises  I  have  had  :  I 
never  saw  one  pup  even,  although  I  heard  there  were 
six  grand  youngsters  in  the  first  lot. 

I  never  had  a  licence  for  him  nor  did  he  ever  wear 
a  collar.  He  would  go  in  and  out  of  my  apartment 
just  like  a  man  and  I  am  sure  would  often  try  to  talk. 
He  endeavoured  to  say  something  quite  civilly  to  a 
big  German  once  at  St  Moritz,  and  the  hulking  pig 
kicked  him.  Piper  looked  to  me  to  take  up  the 
quarrel,  and  I  did.  The  German  was  three  times  my 
size,  and  it  must  have  looked  funny  when  I  faced  that 
"  Boche." 

"  What  did  you  want  to  kick  my  dog  for  ?  "  I  asked 
him. 

He  smiled  at  first,  then  he  must  have  seen  my 
dangerous  "  bantam  "  look,  for  he  turned  green  and 
— apologised.  I  think  Piper  was  disappointed  that 
there  was  no  scrap  ;  he  might  have  been  useful  round 
the  German's  calves. 

It  may  seem  odd  to  some  people  that  I  have  given 
so  much  space  to  just  a  dog,  but  apart  from  liking  all 
dogs,  Piper  was  out  by  himself  in  intelligence;  we 
understood  each  other  just  like  two  men  talking.  I 
miss  him  still  and  have  never  had  the  heart  to  get 
another.  There  are  some  living  creatures  in  the  world 
who  cannot  be  replaced,  and  Piper  was  one — of  tw^o. 

•  ••••••, 

In  the  first  chapter  of  this  book  I  mentioned  my  first 
dog — Tony.  One  of  the  lasting  memories  of  my  life 
is  when  I  assassinated  a  dog  to  save  Tony's  life.  Yet 
I  was  almost  as  fond  of  the  dog  I  murdered  as  I  was  of 
Tony.  It  was  a  question  of  the  oldest  friend  having 
to  be  protected.  It  was  when  I  was  working  at  the 
oil  wells.  I  used  to  have  to  take  a  can  every  morning 
to  Pat  Grace's  cottage  for  milk.     Pat  also  worked  at 

259 


TOD  SLOAN 

the  wells.  He  had  a  big  bull-dog  known  as  "Pat 
Grace's  bull-dog."  This  dog  and  I  would  play  to- 
gether, rollick  in  the  grass,  pretend  to  bite  each  other 
and  spar  like  two  kids. 

One  morning  I  had  forgotten  that  Tony  had  come 
with  me  to  Pat  Grace's  for  the  milk  and  before  I  knew 
anything  the  bull  had  grabbed  him  by  the  neck  through 
the  fence,  and  was  shaking  the  stuffing  out  of  my  dog. 
Then  the  two  bounded  through  the  fence  on  to  the 
railway  track  and  Grace's  bull  had  a  new  hold  on  Tony. 
My  dog  weighed  about  26  lb.  while  his  attacker  was 
heavier  than  I  was— about  56  lb.      There   was   my 
lovely  dog  being  chewed  to  death  in  front  of  my  eyes  ! 
What  was  to  be  done  !     If  the  bull  had  turned  on  me 
he  would  have  done  for  me.     I  had  a  big  clasp-knife 
in  my  pocket  and  it  was  the  work  of  a  minute  to  whip 
it  out  and  give  the  first  stab  at  that  hulking  brute— I 
felt  that  way  about  him  then  although  he  was  my 
pal  in  peace-times.     In  a  second  another  deep  jab 
followed  up  to  the  hilt  of  the  knife,  and  then— it 
closed  on  me  and  cut  my  fingers  open  to  the  bone. 
Tony  was  gasping  and  whimpering.    Myself  I  let  that 
bull  have  a  one -two,  a  half -blade  stab  and  one  which 
put  him  out.    Tony  had  got  away  and  was  Hcking  his 

wounds. 

I  don't  know  how  I  got  away  myself,  but  I  did, 
delivered  the  milk,  had  a  look  at  Tony,  and— went 
back  to  work.  The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  go  up  to 
Pat  Grace,  who  was  sitting  around  after  his  breakfast. 

"  Pat,  I've  killed  your  dog,"  I  began.  "  He  tried 
to  kill  mine  and  I  stabbed  him  to  death." 

There  was  a  pause  and  his  face  turned  deathly  white. 
He  half  got  up,  then  mastered  himself,  and  replied : 
"  Then  you  better  go  and  bury  him,  Tod."  And  he 
turned  away  and  never  spoke  to  me  again  in  his  fife. 

260 


ALL  I  WAS  FIT  FOR 

I  tramped  back,  crying  over  the  bull  which  I  was  so 
fond  of.  It  was  a  bit  of  a  task  to  drag  that  56  or 
58  lb.  dog  to  a  pit  I  had  ready  for  him,  but  I  did. 
I  cursed  the  fate  of  things  that  made  it  necessary  for 
dogs  to  chew  up  each  other,  for  with  Tony  out  of  the 
way  I  could  have  been  just  as  fond  of  the  other  fellow. 
However,  the  last  look  was  given  him  and  I  felt  happier 
when  he  was  out  of  sight. 

Of  course  there  was  a  lot  of  talk  about  it  all  in  our 
district.  I  was  mentioned  as  "  only  being  fit  for  a 
School  of  Correction,"  and  altogether  put  down  as 
hopeless.  What  a  lot  of  chat  can  take  place  in  a  little 
community  !  I  wasn't  altogether  pleased  with  myself, 
all  the  same. 


261 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

A   LITTLE   FIGHTING 

Dal  Hawkins  v.  my  Valet— Results  tell— Silencing  a  Whistler 

In  mentioning  fighters,  I  have  referred  to  my  friend- 
ship with  Jim  Corbett ;  I  had  also  a  cordial  acquaint- 
ance with  Bob  Fitzsimmons,  Kid  M'Coy  and  others  at 
various  times.  I  shall  always  look  on  Corbett  as  the 
greatest  fighter  of  our  time.  He  proved  it  over  and 
over  again,  especially  when  going  twenty  rounds  with 
Jim  Jeffries,  then  a  much  younger  man— in  fact  at 
his  prime,  and  seven  years  younger  than  Jim.  Neither 
of  these  men  I  have  mentioned  had  much  to  do  with 
the  race-course,  paying  only  occasional  visits.  Corbett 
from  being  a  bank  clerk  became  a  pugilist,  and  made 
his  great  name  by  beating  John  L.  Sullivan  in  the 
twenty-first  round.  He  followed  that  up  by  beating 
Charlie  Mitchell  very  easily  and  himself  being  beaten 
by  Fitzsimmons  at  Carson  City.  Of  course  there  were 
many  minor  victories. 

A  sort  of  preliminary  for  that  great  fight  at  Carson 
City  was  at  the  same  place  when  Dal  Hawkins,  who 
weighed  about  136  lbs.,  had  nearly  killed  Martin 
Flaherty— a  great  fighter  too.  Somehow  Hawkins 
and  I  did  not  get  on  very  welt.  I  forget  what  led  to 
it,  but  I  answered  him  back  one  day  by  saying :  "  Why, 
I've  got  a  man  who  can  beat  you  easily— my  valet." 
I  was  referring  to  "  Mac,"  as  he  was  known  on  the 
race-course,  his  full  name  being  MacGoolrich.  He 
was  always  saying  that  he  could  fight,  so  one  day  I 

262 


DAL  HAWKINS  F.  IVIY  VALET 

made  a  match  for  200  dollars  a  side  for  my  "  dark 
one"  against  "Dal."  He  hadn't  put  down  his  stake 
so  I  roasted  him  one  day  in  the  Baldwin  House  at 
San  Francisco. 

"  I've  put  up  ten  20-dollar  gold  pieces,"  I  said. 
"  Where's  your  money  ?  Afraid  of  being  whipped  ? 
Wliy  should  I  leave  my  money  down  any  longer  ?  " 
He  looked  at  me  a  bit  ugly  like,  and  then  said  :  "Oh  ! 
I'll  get  it,"  and  went  out  of  the  place  to  do  so.  He 
came  back  with  100  dollars,  all  he  could  raise  for  the 
moment,  so  we  made  the  match  for  the  reduced  sum 
down,  on  the  understanding  that  it  was  to  be  increased 
to  500  dollars  later  on.  I  had  done  the  thing  for  a  bit 
of  a  joke  at  first,  but  MacGoolrich  was  always  so  sure 
of  what  he  could  do,  so  I  stuck  to  it.  Of  course  it 
had  all  started  by  my  kidding  Dal.  It  was  to  be  one 
of  several  bouts  put  on  at  the  Opera  House,  San 
Francisco.  I  remember  that  Pittsburg  Phil  and  I  had 
the  big  stage  box. 

MacGoolrich  had  stage  fright,  I  could  see,  but  apart 
from  that  he  was  no  class  at  all.  If  Dal  had  gone 
for  him  in  the  first  round  my  man  would  have  been 
down  and  out  in  no  time  at  all.  But  Hawkins  sparred 
cautiously,  not  being  sure  whether  I  had  sprung  a 
real  daisy  on  him.  He  was  fogged  about  it  all.  When 
they  came  up  for  the  second  turn  there  was  no  time 
lost,  and  Mac  was  cut  to  ribbons.  My !  but  Hawkins 
simply  murdered  him.  Mac,  in  fact,  was  out  for  a 
long  time.  Wliat  a  game  they  had  with  him  when  he 
went  racing  again  !  The  boys  would  rattle  a  bucket 
behind  him,  or  run  up  quietly  and  then  yell :  "  Look 
out,  Mac,  here's  Dal  coming." 

No  one  left  him  alone  at  all  and  his  life  was  a  misery. 
But  he  had  been  such  a  swanker  before  with  regard 
to  his  fighting  !     And  to  think  in  that  first  round  Dal 

263 


TOD  SLOAN 

thought  he  might  be  out  against  a  ringer !  Hawkins 
and  I  made  it  up  in  after  years,  but  he  had  heard  the 
full  story  long  before  that. 

I  had  a  coloured  valet,  Dick  Keys,  of  whom  I  have 
spoken :  he  thought  he  could  fight  too,  but  he  had  no 
heart — or  "  guts,"  if  I  may  use  rather  a  vulgar  ex- 
pression. Fred  Taral,  the  jockey,  was  a  rival  just 
then  of  mine,  and  was  sore  with  me  about  several  things, 
chief  of  which  being  the  fact  that  I  had  replaced  him 
in  riding  Hamburg.  There  was  still  more  jealousy  and 
enmity  between  Dick  Keys  and  Taral's  coloured  valet. 
In  fact  it  grew  worse  and  worse  as  day  followed  day. 
At  all  events  a  match  was  made  between  the  two. 
Willie  Sims,  the  coloured  rider,  known  both  in  France 
and  England,  asked  me  about  my  valet,  and  I  told 
him  that  he  had  no  real  stamina  and  wouldn't  stay. 
"  Never  mind,"  said  Willie,  "  we've  got  to  win  ;   we'll 


win." 


The  two  were  both  heavy  fellows  and  outwardly 
they  looked  a  good  match.  Sims  said  again,  when 
the  match  drew  near :  "  We'll  have  to  win." 

It  took  place  at  the  Coney  Island  Athletic  Club. 
Willie  Sims  was  in  Keys'  corner ;  the  match  was 
four  rounds.  The  two  boxers  looked  like  a  pair  of 
chimpanzees  when  brought  in  ;  I  never  saw  such  a 
picture,  they  shaped  and  crouched  just  as  if  they  ought 
to  have  been  up  a  tree,  or  in  a  Zoo. 

Taral's  nigger  led  off  and  let  Keys  have  some 
beauties,  although  neither  of  them  knew  anything 
about  fighting.  Wallop,  wallop — ^how  my  man  got  it ! 
I  thought  he  would  have  been  "  dead  "  in  the  first 
round,  but  he  scraped  through  somehow.  Willie 
Sims  whispered  encouragement  to  him  and  in  he  went 
for  the  second.  Wliat  the  other  nig.  had  done  to  him 
in  the  first  was  nothing  to  what  he  handed  out  in  the 

264 


RESULTS  TELL 

second  ;  he  was  sent  all  over  the  Ring,  and  how  he  got 
up  and  faced  more  punishment  was  a  licker ;  he  did 
nothing  in  return.  Back  they  went  to  their  corners, 
and  here  something  happened  to  my  man  which  made 
him  more  like  a  monkey  than  ever.  By  mistake  they 
dashed  some  ammonia  into  his  face  out  of  a  bottle 
instead  of  water.  He  sprang  up  with  a  yell  and  danced 
all  over  the  Ring.  No  one  knew  what  had  happened, 
and  there  was  a  roar  of  laughing.  The  wonderful 
Willie  Sims  soothed  him  somehow  and  got  him  up 
again,  to  be  whipped  about  in  much  the  same  way  as 
before.  Willie  didn't  look  downcast  about  it  all,  so 
I  only  looked  on  to  enjoy  the  fun ;  yet  I  never  thought 
for  a  moment  that  my  man  could  last  it  out,  and — even 
suppose  he  did  !  Sims  must  have  mesmerised  him  or 
something,  for  notwithstanding  Keys  being  down  twice 
in  the  last  round — once  for  the  count  of  eight — he 
flopped  back  more  dead  than  alive. 

ijp  went  the  Referee's  hand.  "  Keys  wins  I " 
That  was  the  announcement.  AVhat  yells  and  booing ! 
You  could  have  heard  them  miles  away.  Keys  didn't 
know  where  he  was ;  however,  he  got  round — and  then 
the  side  he  put  on  !  He  bought  a  red  necktie  and  a 
new  suit.  He  could  afford  to  :  the  match  had  been  for 
200  dollars  a  side.  When  they  all  began  from  that 
time  to  chip  him  and  say :  "  Wliat  a  decision  !  "  or 
"  Why,  Taral's  nigger  could  murder  you  !  "  Dick's 
only  answer,  given  with  a  wag  of  his  head,  was 
"  Results  !  " — meaning,  of  course,  "  Results  tell." 

Just  another  story  of  a  nigger.  Wlien  I  was  out  in 
San  Francisco  there  was  a  nigger  arrived  there  armed 
with  a  letter  from  George  Considine  of  New  York  to 
me.  It  said  merely  that  the  nigger  wanted  a  show, 
and  that,  according  to  the  nigger,  he  "  could  fight 
till  the  cows  came  home."     He  was  a  biggish  fellow, 

265 


TOD  SLOAN 

weighing  about  155  lbs.  We  arranged  a  try-out  for 
him  against  a  local  man  and  went  to  see  the  show. 
Considine's  nigger,  as  I  shall  call  him,  came  into  the 
Ring  full  of  confidence,  showing  his  white  teeth  as  his 
smile  broadened.  He  was  as  cheerful  and  confident 
as  possible,  so  I  said  to  Joe  Eppinger,  who  was 
just  behind  him :  "  There  may  be  something  in  this 
feller." 

"  Anyhow,  we'll  see  some  fun,"  answered  Joe. 

They  were  to  spar  six  rounds.  When  they  began 
the  nig.  was  still  laughing.  Then  it  began  to  wear  off 
as  the  round  proceeded,  and  he  looked  astonished  at 
the  end  of  it,  for  the  other  fellow  was  handing  out 
jabs  and  hooks.  He  went  in  for  the  second  and  got 
lifted  off  his  feet  and  had  it  all  roads.  At  the  end  of 
it  he  looked  like  quitting,  but  Joe  Eppinger  kidded  him, 
saying  :  "  Go  in  ;  you're  all  right ;  he's  nearly  had 
enough  of  it ;  that  last  knock  down  was  only  an 
accident."     So  up  he  got  again. 

In  the  third  he  was  driven  round  the  Ring,  and  it 
required  all  Joe's  cleverness  to  get  him  in  again.  "  The 
fight's  on  points,"  Joe  said.  "  You've  outpointed  him 
already  and  you're  sure  to  get  the  decision  if  you  go 
up  to  him." 

At  the  end  of  the  fourth,  which  was  a  repetition 
of  the  others,  Eppinger  tried  to  use  the  same  old 
wheezes,  adding :  "  You're  sure  of  it  now,  ask  Tod 
Sloan  ;   he  says  you'll  walk  in." 

"  I  don't  seem  to  see  it  in  the  same  way  as  you 
fellers  do,"  the  nig.  replied.  However,  he  went  in 
again.  After  more  slaughter,  Joe  started  afresh  : 
"  Tliat  was  a  beauty  :  your  man's  beaten.  Why,  he 
wants  to  quit  now." 

"  Does  he,  boss ;  does  he  really  ?  Well,  send  someone 
to  the  other  feller  and  tell  him  to  let's  call  it  a  draw." 

266 


SILENCING  A  WHISTLER 


ii 


Why,  there's  more  dog  in  you  than  in  any  nigger 
I  ever  saw,"  calls  out  Joe  to  him.  "  Why,  in  Mr 
Considine's  letter  to  Tod  Sloan,  he  said  you  could  fight 
'  till  the  cows  came  home.'  " 

"That's  right,  but  tell  Mr  Sloan  that  I  see  'em 
coming." 
•  ••••••• 

There  are  a  brave  lot  of  people  about.  I  was  riding 
home  in  a  street  car  in  San  Francisco  one  night  with  a 
fellow  called  Gus  Gentry,  who  was  always  talking 
fight.  I  was  sitting  next  to  an  old  fellow,  who  fidgeted 
about  when  I  was  whistling — I  have  spoken  of  the 
habit. 

"  Quit  whistling,"  roared  the  old  fellow.  Gentry, 
who  was  farthest  away  from  him,  nudged  me  and  said  : 
"  You  go  on  whistling,  Tod." 

The  old  fellow  leaned  across  my  back,  looked  at 
Gus,  and  said :  "  You  whistle." 

Gus  made  never  a  sound,  and  after  a  minute  the  old 
fellow  laughed  and  looked  at  us  :  "I  don't  hear  either 
of  you  two  fellers  whistling."  He  got  off  soon  after, 
and  when  we  were  travelling  about  200  yards  farther, 
and  the  car  running  at  about  25  miles  an  hour,  Gus 
broke  in  :  "  I'm  burning  up  ;  I've  a  good  mind  to 
jump  off  the  car  and  go  back  and  kick  the  stuffing 
out  of  that  fellow.  What  right  had  he  to  stop  us 
whistling  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  hear  you  whistling,  Gus,"  I  answered. 

"  No,  but  I'm  not  a  whistler  like  you.  Tod.  I 
wasn't  brought  up  to  it  like  ;  in  fact,  I  can't  whistle — 
not  what  they  call  whistling." 

•  ••••«•• 

Just  another  word  about  Jim  Corbett.  Always  a 
good  fellow,  he  liked  to  sit  down  in  a  bar-room  with 
Frank  Ives,  the  billiard  player,  and  myself  and  talk 

267 


TOD  SLOAN 

for  hours.  The  three  of  us  travelled  about  a  good 
deal  together,  in  America,  in  the  nineties.  Frank  Ives 
had  the  billiard- room  in  New  York  before  M'Graw  and 
I  took  it.  He  led  an  indoor  life  and  the  atmosphere 
he  lived  in  affected  his  health  ;  the  poor  fellow  died  of 
consumption.  Yet  in  his  earlier  times  he  had  been  a 
good  baseball  player  and  an  all-round  good  athlete. 
Bob  Fitzsimmons,  although  not  such  a  good  racon- 
teur as  Jim  Corbett,  who  has  made  plenty  of  money 
at  it,  had  a  lot  of  anecdotes  and  possesses  a  fine  dry  wit. 
Both  Jim  and  Bob  were  staunch  friends  to  one,  and 
have  been  level-headed  enough  to  provide  for  them- 
selves and  their  wives — ^to  whom  they  have  proved 
devoted  husbands. 


268 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 


MAKING   A   BOOK 


Raided — Charron  as  a  Pupil — Newmarket — In  the  Red  Cross— One  and 

only  "  Henry  " 

One  of  the  great  mistakes  I  made  was  taking  the 
New  York  Bar  in  the  Rue  Daunou,  Paris.  My  pre- 
decessor, Milton  Henry,  lost  a  packet  over  it,  and  it 
was  waste  of  time  for  me.  However,  with  the  war 
coming,  all  I  had  to  do  with  it  was  finished.  I  had 
previously  run  a  big  bar,  of  course,  in  connection  with 
my  billiard-saloon  in  New  York,  and  knew  a  good  deal 
about  the  business,  but — ^there  is  always  so  much  to 
learn. 

It  has  been  said  that  I  made  a  book  in  the  Paris  bar, 
but  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  anything  of  the  kind. 
Not  that  I  have  never  made  a  book.  I  have — in  New 
York.  I  had  rather  a  nice  flat,  and  some  of  my  friends 
used  to  say  to  me :  "  Why  don't  you  start  booking  at 
your  place  ?  There's  every  facility."  So  I  started  an 
extra  telephone  and  Charlie  Hauser,  a  brother  of  the 
great  story-teller  in  Paris,  was  on  the  "  piece-at-each- 
ear  "  game.  There  used  to  be  a  pretty  collection  of 
all  nations  up  at  my  "  apartment  "  :  grafters,  diamond 
merchants,  the  knock-outs  from  the  Balkan  provinces, 
and — others.  We  betted  ready  and  settled  after  each 
official  result.  They  would  have  five,  ten,  fifteen, 
twenty  dollars  on  a  horse,  and  sometimes  fifty  or  a 
hundred.  There  was  no  starting  price,  as  understood 
in  England,  but  a  list  of  prices  would  be  put  up  and 
they   could   take   their   choice.     There   was   varying 

269 


TOD  SLOAN 

success,  of  course,  but  it  paid  for  a  while.  I  can  tell 
you,  though,  that  I  used  to  look  at  the  carpets  and 
chairs  when  they  had  all  gone.  The  collection  of  cigar 
stubs  and  remnants  of  bad  words  took  some  time 
sweeping  up. 

One  afternoon,  just  before  the  fourth  race  was  due, 
Charlie  Ballard,  the  jockey,  came  in  by  chance.  The 
crowd  were  looking  down  the  card  and  thinking  over 
what  they  would  do.  Charlie  Hauser,  who  was  at  the 
telephone  as  usual,  taking  the  commissions  of  Germans, 
Poles,  Russians — and  others,  looked  through  the  door, 
saying ;  "Is  Charlie  here  ?  somebody's  asking  for 
him."  But  Charlie  Ballard  wasn't  wanted  ;  he  never 
even  went  to  the  receiver. 

"  I'll  have  a  bet  on  this  race,"  said  one.  "  A  hundred 
dollars  on  So-and-so  " — and  he  mentioned  the  name 
of  the  horse. 

"  Well  then,  put  me  on  20  dollars.  Tod,"  added 
another.  It  was  a  4 J  to  1  chance.  Then  there  was 
a  short  pause  and  a  minute  or  two  elapsed.  "  Champion 
won,"  called  out  Hauser  through  the  door.  It  was 
what  the  two  had  backed.  But  I  didn't  tumble  it 
and  in  due  course  paid  out.  The  evening  passed  and 
even  the  next  day  came  but  I  was  no  wiser.  The 
guy  who  had  stuck  me  for  the  450  dollars  had  a  great 
night,  I  heard,  and  said  I  was  "  easy."  Then  it  began 
— by  the  remarks  of  one  or  two — to  leak  out  to  me. 
They  had  coded  the  runners  in  the  race.  One  was 
"Charlie,"  of  course,  another  was  Fred,  say,  yet  another 
George,  while  I  suppose  the  others  were  represented 
by  Fritz,  or  Ivan,  or  Bill.  At  all  events  the  strength 
of  the  result  was  given  by  "  Is  '  Charlie  '  here  ?  " 
The  code  of  "  Charlie  "  had  come  off  all  right.  I  fell 
across  the  fellow  who  had  stuck  me  for  the  450 
dollars,  and  he  laughed,  saying :   "  You  always  were 

270 


RAIDED 

a  mug  and  always  will  be — so,  why  not  ?  "  It  was 
unanswerable. 

The  show  went  on,  however,  until  one  day  "  Big 
Tim  "  (Senator)  Sullivan  gave  me  the  glad  word. 

"  You'd  better  be  doing  no  business  to-day,  Tod. 
Just  be  at  home  as  a  gentleman  at  ease."  So  there 
was  nothing  doing  and  we  smoked  our  cigars,  just  one 
or  two  of  us.  They  came  as  expected,  those  "  cops," 
had  a  look  round  and  then  asked  me  what  I  was  doing 
there.  "  What  d'yer  think  ?  "  I  replied.  "  This  is 
my  '  at  home  '  day  and  I'm  expecting  the  company." 
However,  they  didn't  bother,  and  off  they  went,  but 
bookmaking  at  that  place  was  finished  for  good  and 
all. 

I  had  a  look  round  and  found  a  suite  of  rooms  at  an 
hotel  up  town,  just  near  Fiftieth  Street  and  Seventh 
Avenue.  I  sent  word  round  to  the  clientele,  and  up 
they  came  the  first  afternoon.  We  hadn't  been  going 
an  hour  before  the  cops  came.  They  didn't  come  in 
with  any  kid-glove  way,  but  simply  smashed  the  door 
in  and  caught  us  all  red-handed.  They  didn't  grab 
the  money,  though  ;  that  was  planted  all  right.  The 
inspector  came  over  and  of  course  took  me  as  the 
principal,  with  the  telephone  clerk  and  my  others  too ; 
and  they  put  down  the  names  and  addresses  of  all  the 
frequenters. 

I  began  to  parley  with  him.  I  told  him  the  tale  that 
it  would  be  a  terrible  thing  for  me.  I  had  applied  for 
my  licence,  which  I  hoped  to  get,  and  it  would  be  a 
dreadful  thing  if  I  had  to  go  off  in  the  Patrol  Wagon. 
I  didn't  mind  what  it  cost,  the  fine  and  all  that,  but 
if  it  got  into  the  papers  and  I  was  made  the  main  guy 
in  it  all  my  prospects  would  be  ruined.  He  laughed 
at  first  and  then  said,  without  any  hint  that  I  should 
give  him  any  of  my  pocket-book,  "  You'll  come  with 

271 


TOD  SLOAN 

me  alone  then."  I  guessed  he  was  all  right  and  meant 
me  to  slip  him  when  we  got  outside.  It  turned  out 
pretty  well  as  I  thought.  Once  in  Seventh  Avenue 
he  turned  to  me,  saying  :  "  Beat  it  now  "  (Go  off  quick) 
and  don't  let  me  hear  of  you  again.  And  I  never  did. 
Tliat  was  the  end  of  the  bookmaking  business. 

The  only  other  time  that  I  came  across  the 
police  in  New  York  was  when  we  were  exceeding  the 
speed  limit — so  they  said — in  an  automobile  coming 
into  the  city.  There  was  a  terror  named  Tracy  in 
those  days,  who  used  to  get  scores  of  record-breakers 
into  his  net.  He  got  us  and  rode  on  his  bicycle  all  the 
way  by  our  side  to  the  police  station ;  my  two  pals  had 
been  taken  too.  We  were  run  in  and  they  fixed  the 
cash  bail  at  100  dollars  for  us  all.  We  turned  out  our 
pockets,  and  could  only  find  about  35  dollars  among 
the  three  of  us.  We  had  another  with  us,  but  he  had 
not  been  charged.  We  asked  him  how  he  was  fixed, 
and  he  said  he  had  100  dollars  on  him,  but  it  "  didn't 
belong  to  him."  We  knew  that  story,  for  he  was  a 
real  "  hard  heart,"  but  we  made  him  put  up  that  100 
dollars.  Of  course  he  wanted  to  pouch  the  35  we 
had  but  I  put  that  down  where  it  wouldn't  come  up 
very  quickly.  We  had  to  see  the  evening  through 
after  that.  He  kept  on  saying:  "But  why  not  give 
me  that  35  ?  "  I  explained  to  him  that  his  money 
was  all  right.  We  should  turn  up  in  the  morning  and 
his  "  100  "  would  be  released.  Of  course  it  went  down 
after  a  bit  of  a  demur. 

Next  morning  I  was  at  the  Court  House  before  9.30, 
and  asking  for  "  Battery  Dan,"  as  we  knew  the  Police 
Court  Judge,  who  was  a  great  friend  of  Tim  Sullivan. 
I  asked  and  asked  until  at  last  I  was  told  that  he  had 
arrived.  The  police  officer  said  he'd  take  my  name  in. 
I  wouldn't  have  that  and  said  I  would  knock  at  his 

272 


V'V 


In  Algieus 
/Q14 


CHARRON  AS  A  PUPIL 

door  and  walk  in  myself.  Doing  so  I  came  into  a 
room  before  Tim  Sullivan  and  "  Battery  Dan." 

"  In  trouble  again,  Tod  ?  "  began  ''  Big  Tim."  "  We 
can't  help  you  this  time,  I'm  afraid ;  it's  all  up  with 
you." 

"  How  much  money  have  you.  Tod  ? "  asked 
"  Battery  Dan."  "  Are  you  going  to  the  race-track 
to-day  ?  " 

I  told  him  I  had  about  15  dollars  and  free  entry 
and  he  asked  me  how  much  it  cost  to  pay  the  usual 
entrance.  \Vlien  he  learned  from  Tim  that  it  was 
3  dollars,  "  Dan  "  told  me  to  give  him  the  3  dollars 
and  get  out.  That  was  the  joke  he  played  on  me 
and  I  never  heard  another  word  about  it.  America 
can  be,  after  all,  a  "  free  "  country  ! 

Although  I  have  mentioned  a  few  little  details  about 
betting,  laying  horses  never  had  any  real  fascination 
for  me,  and,  strictly  speaking,  when  I  was  not  riding, 
the  big  wagers  made  were  more  in  emphasis  of  an 
opinion  than  a  gamble.  The  proof  of  this  is  provided 
by  the  semi-refusal  to  support  animals  which  I  did  not 
believe  to  be  at  the  top  of  their  form — Rose  de  Mai, 
for  instance,  already  alluded  to.  By  the  way,  when  the 
Comte  de  St  Phalle  left  Charron  as  his  trainer,  he  did 
nothing  to  speak  of,  although  he  had,  in  one  season 
v/ith  Charron,  won  480,000  fr.  in  stakes. 

Certainly  Charron  was  one  of  the  quickest  pupils 
possible  to  find  ;  he  could  understand  straight  away 
what  he  had  to  do,  in  respect  of  adapting  himself  just 
as  well  to  the  horse  as  he  had  done  to  the  bicycle  and 
automobile.  He  has  now  a  nice  place  out  at  Maisons 
Laffitte  and  it  is  to  be  presumed  that  he  will  cling  to 
horses  for  the  remainder  of  his  life,  although  he  has 
such  important  business  interests  of  other  kinds. 
The  picture  in  the  book  shows  him  taking  his  first 
s  273 


TOD  SLOAN 

instruction  in  race-riding.  How  pleased  I  was  with 
him! 

While  Charron  and  many  other  trainers  have  done 
well  at  Maisons  Laffitte  in  turning  out  winners,  that 
centre  is  far  from  ideal  for  training  purposes,  the  horses 
there  having  to  journey  to  Acheres,  to  get  tried  out. 
The  course  at  "  Maisons  "  is  admirable,  especially  that 
straight  mile  and  a  quarter  with  excellent  turf  all  the 
way.  It  beats  Chantilly  in  this  respect,  although 
perhaps  there  is  no  finer  training  place  in  the  world 
than  the  French  headquarters.  The  great  point 
about  choosing  a  suitable  place  to  train  horses  is  to 
have  the  gallops  as  near  as  possible  to  the  stables. 
Some  of  the  Wiltshire  and  other  Southern  English 
stables  are  much  too  far  removed  from  where  the  work 
has  to  take  place.  Take  Darling's  establishment  at 
Beckliampton,  or  Robinson's  at  Foxhill,  or  Ogbourne, 
where  Mr  George  Edwardes  has  his  horses.  I  should 
consider  that  in  some  cases  a  horse  had  done  quite 
enough  exercise  when  he  arrived  at  the  place  where  he 
was  expected  to  "  work  " — in  other  words,  he  might  be 
overdone  with  that  extra  bit.  This  is  very  like  hacking 
a  long  way  to  a  meet — so  little  is  left  to  work  on  in  a 
horse.  Chantilly  is  splendid  in  this  respect,  and  lucky 
is  the  man  who  has  a  good  horse  to  train  there.  When 
Mr  Theodore  Myers  took  the  place  in  Brussels,  a  picture 
of  the  stable  yard  appearing  in  this  book,  we  had  only 
three  quarters  of  a  mile  to  go  to  begin  work — ^the 
greatest  of  all  considerations. 

Of  course  there  is  only  one  great  race-course  in  the 
world,  that  being  Newmarket ;  nothing  ever  laid  out 
or  adapted  from  nature  ever  approached  it.  Every 
distance,  plenty  of  room,  splendid  going  in  all  seasons  : 
what  can  equal  it  ?  Some  of  the  spectators  and  visitors 
from  abroad  complain  of  the  accommodation,  but  racing 

274 


^     S- 


<      ; 


Z 


NEWMARKET 

isn't  a  circus  ;  it  should  first  suit  the  horses  and  all 
other  things  come  afterwards.  WTiat  does  it  matter 
when  horses  have  to  be  tried  out  whether  the  finer 
points  of  the  race  cannot  be  seen  until  the  horses  are 
nearing  home  ?  There  has  been  a  real  test  of  merit. 
It  astonished  me  when  I  first  saw  it,  that  wonderful 
Heath,  and  I  never  slackened  in  enthusiasm.  I  wish 
to  goodness  I  was  riding  there  this  afternoon — ^the 
Second  Spring  Meeting  is  in  full  swing.  We  have  no 
turf  tracks  in  America.  At  Sheepshead  Bay  there  is 
a  grass  inner  track  on  which  perhaps  one  race  a  day 
is  run,  but  it  is — nothing. 

Newmarket  is  extraordinary,  and  if  a  jockey  will 
keep  his  line,  trying  to  get  on  the  right  strip  where  the 
brush  harrow  has  been,  there  can  be  confidence  that, 
if  at  the  right  time  the  proper  effort  is  made,  a  boy 
can  do  his  horse  justice.  Compare  it  with  any  other 
course  in  England,  why — the  idea  is  absurd.  Epsom 
is  a  joke  but  a  fine  sight-seeing  track.  It  has  often 
been  a  wonder  to  me  that  so  many  good  horses  have 
won  the  Derby,  but  I  suppose  it  is  that  a  good  horse 
can  race  under  any  conditions.  The  test  of  stamina  at 
Epsom  too  comes  in  on  account  of  that  uphill  bit 
at  the  beginning  of  the  Epsom  mile  and  a  half  :  many 
a  horse  has  lost  the  race  there.  I  have  said  how  I 
threw  the  Oaks  away  on  Sibola.  That  downhill  well- 
worn-out  grass  at  Epsom  can  be  a  real  danger  in 
summer  :  it  is  more  providential  luck  than  anything 
else  that  a  jockey  is  not  killed  every  meeting.  Despite 
the  turns  at  Sandown  Park  it  is  not  so  easy,  that  rise 
at  the  finish  finding  out  far  more  horses  than,  for 
instance,  Kempton,  which  ends  on  the  dead  flat  with  a 
breather  at  the  turn.  Hurst  Park  is  severe  on  young 
horses,  and  so  is  Newmarket,  when  they  finish  at  the 
Stands.     But  England  is  the  place  for  racing,  while 

275 


TOD  SLOAN 

there  is  nowhere  better  in  the  world  for  training  than 
Chantilly. 

•  •«••••• 

It  was  never  to  be  imagined  in  the  years  before 
1914  that  I  should  be  living  in  Paris  when  the  Germans 
were  only  twenty-five  miles,  or  less,  from  it ;  that 
previously  the  mobilisation  in  France  for  the  greatest 
war  in  the  world  should  take  place,  and  that  I  was  to 
be  in  uniform  driving  a  Red  Cross  waggon.  The 
trouble,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  anticipated  many 
days  before,  the  chief  indication  being  the  scarcity  of 
small  money.  It  was  most  difficult  to  get  change  for 
even  a  fifty-franc  note,  everyone  hoarding  up  gold 
and  silver  coinage  ;  as  for  foreign  money,  except  for 
English  sovereigns,  there  were  all  sorts  of  impositions 
in  giving  change.  There  was  a  curious  calmness 
about  it  all,  however,  which  spoke  a  lot  for  the  courage 
of  the  French  people.  I  wish  as  much  could  be  said 
for  some  of  the  foreigners  left  in  Paris.  I  remember 
one  day  in  particular.  Several  people  rushed  to  my 
room  early  in  the  morning.  I  had  just  gone  to  bed. 
"  Get  up  and  be  off,"  they  cried ;  to  which  I  replied, 
"  Wliy  should  I  when  I  have  only  just  come  to  bed  ?  " 
But  they  couldn't  be  stopped,  and  raced  off,  trying  to 
get  seats  to  skip  away  out  of  the  country.  This 
was  about  three  weeks  after  the  opening  of  the 
war. 

Straight  away  I  had  tried  to  get  something  to  do, 
first,  as  a  sharpshooter.  But  there  were  two  reasons 
against  my  acceptance,  one  being  that  I  was  so  small 
that  I  couldn't  stretch  out  to  march  with  ordinary 
soldiers,  and  the  other  that  I  was  an  American  subject. 
Then  there  was  the  fruitless  endeavour  to  get  a  job  in 
connection  with  a  mitrailleuse,  for  I  had  been  tried 
out  with  this,  and  I  was  sure  that  I  could  make  good 

276 


-   * 


W'okkim;   i-i)K    iiii';  Amiu/lance 

IQI4-IQIJ 


IN  THE  RED  CROSS 

work  with  it — certainly  I  should  have  been  a  smaller 
target  than  many  others. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  then  but  to  get  into  the 
French  Red  Cross  and  French  Ambulance,  but  even 
here  all  there  was  to  do  was  to  drive  officers  about, 
chiefly  those  of  the  French  Red  Cross.  It  was  dis- 
couraging. All  applications  to  do  something  more 
interesting  or  to  be  sent  to  the  front  were  usually  met 
by  the  objection  that  I  had  been  warned  off  the  turf 
in  England,  which  to  begin  with  was  not  true,  and  in 
the  second  place  what  my  troubles  had  been  with  the 
English  Jockey  Club  surely  could  have  no  possible 
bearing  on  my  having  useful  work  when  so  many  were 
wanted.  However,  it  was  a  repetition  in  a  way  of 
what  had  happened  when  I  tried  to  get  into  the 
Automobile  Club,  and  when  I  was  asked  to  resign 
my  membership  of  the  Touring  Club  of  France.  I  can 
assure  you  I  did  not  give  up  wearing  the  uniform  and 
trying  my  best  to  get  near  the  fighting  until  it  seemed 
futile.  Perhaps  after  this  is  written  and  with  a  pro- 
longed war  my  services  may  yet  be  accepted. 

Of  course  with  the  stopping  of  racing  at  the  opening 
of  the  meeting  at  Deauville  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
hardship  to  those  who  couldn't  afford  the  break. 
Several  of  the  Americans  went  away  at  once  to  the 
United  States,  others  very  wisely  kept  their  horses 
there  at  Deauville  until  they  saw  what  was  likely  to 
happen  at  Chant  illy  and  Maisons  Laffitte.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  at  the  French  Turf  headquarters  German 
troops  never  occupied  the  place  ;  it  was  only  a  question 
of  a  certain  number  of  Uhlans  coming  in  to  see  how 
the  country  was  defended,  whether  the  roads  were 
open,  etc.  It  wasn't  a  very  pleasant  experience,  how- 
ever, and  only  a  very  few  horses  were  removed — 
chiefly  those  of  no  value,  and  as  I  have  said  they  were 

277 


TOD  SLOAN 

not  much  grieved  for.  What  must  be  admired  there 
was  the  quietness  with  which  the  majority  took  the 
advent  of  the  German  scouts.  They  had  been  warned 
before  of  the  near  approach  of  the  enemy  and  many 
of  the  lads  went  away,  but  others  of  them  stuck  to 
tlieir  yards  quite  fearlessly  despite  the  gloomy  stories 
which  had  been  sent  down  from  day  to  day. 

With  regard  to  the  taking  of  good  horses  by  the 
Government  at  a  nominal  price,  of  course  war  is  war, 
but  it  was  heart-breaking  for  owners  to  lose  valuable 
animals.  They  would  gladly  have  paid  the  price  of 
ten  horses.  For  instance.  Lord  Loris,  who  won  the  big 
steeplechase  at  Auteuil  in  1914,  was  taken  for  sixty 
pounds  I  think  it  was.  Still  that  wasn't  the  point  : 
the  horse  languished  away  under  entirely  changed 
conditions,  never  doing  any  work  at  all  to  speak  of, 
and  dying.  There  were  others  too  which  began  to 
droop  the  moment  they  were  stabled  uncomfortably, 
had  changed  diet,  and  lost  all  the  care  which  had  been 
bestowed  on  them. 

Speaking  of  steeplechasing,  one  of  the  saddest  events 
in  the  early  stage  of  the  war  was  the  death  of  Alec 
Carter.  Many  may  remember  that  from  serving  his 
two  years  in  a  cavalry  regiment  he  was  given  a  com- 
mission in  an  infantry  battalion  and  was  killed  very 
shortly  after  that.  It  seems  almost  a  pity  that  many 
of  the  greatest  in  their  various  lines  should  be  wiped 
out  when  they  could  perhaps  have  been  used  to  better 
advantage.  Several  of  those  I  have  known  cannot 
be  replaced,  and  various  sports  and  games  must  lose 
the  benefit  of  such  fine  teachers.  Still  again,  war  is 
war,  and  because  one  man  happens  to  be  the  best  lawn- 
tennis  player  in  the  world  he  cannot  be  excepted,  but 
must  take  the  same  chance  as  others. 

During  those  trying  times  what  was  there  to  do  ? 

278 


Two  Pirates 

Milton  Henry  and  Tod  Sloan  Fishing  /or   'Ircnsitn-  in  Algiers 


ONE  AND  ONLY  HENRY 

Wliere  were  Americans  and  English  people  to  go  with 
no  amusements  ?  Where  they  did  congregate  was 
at  Henry's  Bar  in  the  Rue  Volney.  Henry  Tepe  is 
perhaps  the  best -known  man  to  Americans  in  Europe, 
as  for  many  years  he  has  had  the  chance  of  meeting 
celebrities  from  my  country.  It  has  been  quite  a 
usual  thing  for  one  important  personality  to  say  to 
another  in  New  York,  "  I'll  meet  you  at  Henry's  Bar 
two  weeks  next  Friday."  Both  know  Henry  and  he 
knows  each  of  them,  so  that  a  ready  inquiry  obtains 
an  equally  direct  reply.  If  we  had  as  many  dollars 
as  Henry  we  should  be  all  right,  or  as  many  dollars  as 
he  possesses  friends. 


279 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

SUGGESTIONS 

Effect  of  the  "  Mutual" — Le  Blizon  and  the  Eclipse — Lord  Durham's 

Speech 

Or  course  during  my  riding  career,  and  since  the  forced 
times  as  a  spectator,  I  have  devoted  a  good  deal  of 
thought  to  the  question  whether  the  speculative  side 
of  racing  was  properly  conducted,  and  whether  by 
controlling  bookmakers  the  public  could  not  have 
a  better  chance  of  coming  in  greater  numbers  to 
meetings.  The  high  prices  charged  for  admittance 
to  the  exclusive  parts  of  English  courses  must  deter 
many  hundreds  from  attending — I  mean  among  those 
who  do  not  feel  in  their  proper  place  in  the  cheaper 
enclosures.  Wliat  is  charged  on  some  days  at  Ascot, 
Liverpool,  Epsom,  etc.,  is  almost  prohibitive,  and  the 
sovereign  for  other  meetings  could  be  reduced  if  income 
was  sought  for  elsewhere.  Compare  this  with  the  maxi- 
mum price,  sixteen  shillings,  in  France  or  the  three 
dollars  which  takes  one  everywhere  in  America  except 
the  club  enclosure.  Wliat  should  be  done  is  to  attract 
as  many  influential  people  as  possible — thus  would 
racing  obtain  more  friends,  which  is  what  it  wants  to 
fight  those  who  would  do  away  with  it. 

It  is  very  unlikely  in  the  opinion  of  many  that  the 
pari-mutuel  will  ever  be  adopted  in  England,  and  that 
England  need  not  regret.  Personally  I  am  dead 
against  it.  Certainly  in  France  the  value  of  the 
stakes  makes  it  possible  for  an  owner  to  pay  his  way 
without  any  betting,  or  rather  I  should  say  a  certain 

280 


^^v.. 


4 


.:^ 


M. 


"Hknrv" 

Af.  He  my  Tfpc 


EFFECT  OF  THE  MUTUEL 

number  of  smaller  owners  can  exist.  Tlie  pari- 
mutuel  in  fact  in  some  respects  might  be  a  curse  in 
England  as  it  is  in  France.  The  public  has  a  right 
to  know  what  is  going  on  in  prices,  for  a  "  market  " 
makes  everything  more  interesting.  In  countries 
where  the  pari-mutuel  is  an  institution  owners  throw 
in  their  weight  at  the  last  moment,  frequently  when 
everyone  is  ready  to  look  at  the  race.  Therefore 
previous  prices  can  be  entirely  false.  Of  course  it 
may  be  said  that  owners  have  to  pay  their  way  and 
do  not  run  their  animals  for  the  public  benefit,  but 
after  all  there  should  be  a  sort  of  bond  of  sympathy 
between  those  who  run  horses  and  those  who  by  paying 
their  gate  money  contribute  to  the  "  pool  "  which 
provides  the  stakes.  The  whole  topic  will  always 
remain  a  bone  of  contention,  but  during  many  years 
I  have  had  the  opportunity  of  listening  to  what  others 
have  to  say  concerning  it,  and  what  I  have  said  above 
is  the  combination  of  opinion. 

Another  thing  :  if  the  pari-mutuel  were  introduced 
into  England  the  starting-price  bookmakers  would 
have  to  pay  the  mutuel  prices  and  there  would  be  the 
chance  of  any  amount  of  sharp  practice  in  this  respect. 
A  horse  might  be  entirely  neglected  on  the  course 
and  returns  could  be  quite  false. 

It  is  often  said  that  the  stakes  for  jumping  meetings 
in  England  are  ridiculously  small  compared  with  what 
is  given  in  France  :  which  is  fact.  But  this  could  be 
made  so  different  if  bookmakers  in  England  were 
charged  so  much  a  day  for  the  privilege  of  betting,  as 
was  the  case  in  the  palmy  days  of  racing  in  the  United 
States.  The  fee  charged  then  was  one  hundred 
dollars,  or  twenty  pounds,  a  day,  with  a  guarantee  that 
there  should  be  at  least  five  races  on  the  card.  Very 
much  the  same  thing  should  be  done  in  the  principal 

281 


TOD  SLOAN 

enclosure  in  England.  Put  it  at  four  pounds  a  race 
and  reckon  out  what  would  be  collected,  and  how 
much  better  the  prizes  would  be,  and  how  the  entrance 
money  to  the  big  enclosure  could  be  reduced.  In  the 
smaller  rings  this  could  be  perhaps  divided  by  half — 
I  mean  the  licensing  fee  for  the  day,  and  in  the  silver 
"  tanks  "  merely  a  nominal  charge  should  be  made, 
and,  as  at  one  time  in  America,  the  minimum  sum  to 
be  invested  could  be  one  shilling  and  the  maximum 
five  shillings.  This  worked  very  well  when  in  vogue 
"  over  home."  In  that  case  it  was  a  dollar  as  the 
topmost  bet,  but  that  was  swept  away  when  eventually 
any  amount  could  be  put  on.  This  spoilt  racing  and 
the  charge  came  up  of  the  turf  being  commercialised. 
There  could  not  be  a  five-hundred-dollar  bet  made 
without  it  being  tick-tacked  across,  and  they  were  as 
"  wise  "  outside  as  were  the  big  men  inside.  That 
kind  of  thing  should  be  immediately  suppressed. 
The  tick-tackers  are  an  infernal  nuisance  and  it  would 
be  only  fair  to  sweep  them  off  if,  as  has  been  sug- 
gested, the  big  men  contributed  towards  the  day's 
fund.  It  would  only  be  just  for  the  big  fellows  to 
have  as  much  of  the  business  as  could  come  their  way, 
and  smaller  ones  paying  a  much  less  fee  to  be  restricted 
to  lesser  clients  and  rather  petty  business. 

I  do  not  wish  to  be  too  dogmatic  about  all  this,  but 
my  views  as  a  spectator  for  the  last  fifteen  years  might 
suggest  some  new  legislation,  especially  as  the  whole 
topic  is  approached  from  the  view-point  of  experiences 
in  four  countries. 

Mr  Bottomley  gives  his  strong  views  on  many 
matters,  and  it  is  a  pity  that  a  man  like  he  should  not 
have  some  voice  in  race-course  management.  It 
would  be  interesting  if  he  would  give  his  ideas  as  to 
how  bookmakers  should  be  controlled.     I  know  he 

282 


LE  BLIZON  AND  THE  ECLIPSE 

has  opinions  of  his  own  on  the  question.  Perhaps 
a  special  committee  should  be  nominated  to  control 
bookmakers  and  collect  their  licence  fees.  It  might 
too  be  a  question  whether  all  the  big  men  betting  in 
Tattersall's  ring  should  not  be  compelled  to  obtain  a 
guarantee  from  the  clubs  they  respectively  belong  to. 
Mention  of  Mr  Bottomley  makes  me  wish  to  record 
the  sympathy  and  kindness  he  has  shown  me  for  years. 
I  wish  I  could  have  another  day  like  that  enjoyed 
when  his  horse  Le  Blizon  won  a  big  sprint  race  at 
Maisons  Laffitte  some  years  back.  I  followed  the  tip 
of  his  fancying  the  horse  and  the  result  put  me  on  easy 
street  for  some  months.  There  is  another  incident 
in  connection  with  this  horse  which  has  not  been 
recorded  in  these  pages.  It  was  when  Jimmy  Hare — 
the  father — decided,  because  I  would  ride  him,  to 
run  Le  Blizon  in  the  Eclipse  Stakes.  I  think  it  was  I 
suggested  that  he  should  take  a  chance  with  the  horse, 
who,  as  the  majority  will  remember,  could  not  go  very 
well  over  six  furlongs.  As  in  other  cases  I  assured 
Jimmy  that  his  horse  would  not  be  knocked  about 
and  although  he  didn't  win  he  was  tickled  to  death  at 
the  show  Le  Blizon  made. 

I  hung  in  behind  all  the  way  round  at  Sandown, 
getting  the  advantage  of  the  wind-break  of  others  in 
front  of  me  and  was  going  great  guns  up  to  a  furlong 
and  a  half  from  home,  for  he  had  run  his  race  for  over 
a  mile,  stretching  out  well  within  himself.  It  was  only 
that  final  rise  to  the  winning  post  of  less  than  a  furlong 
which  beat  him. 

Tliere  are  many  other  non-stayers  who  could 
perhaps  do  just  as  well  if  riders  would  only  study  that 
question  of  getting  every  advantage  of  "  wind-break," 
just  as  a  cyclist  does  from  his  pace  maker  ;  the  screen 
is  invaluable.     This  does  not  necessarily  mean  that  a 

283 


TOD  SLOAN 

jockey  should  allow  his  horse  to  be  "  pocketed,"  but 
on  occasions  there  is  really  nothing  much  against  this 
if  a  boy  is  alert  enough  to  get  out  of  it.  It  is  difficult 
sometimes  to  discover  a  horse's  best  distance — so  much 
depends  on  how  he  is  ridden.  Tliere  have  been  so 
many  hundreds  of  cases  where  sprinters  have  developed 
into  good  two-mile  hurdlers,  and  on  round  courses 
with  careful  handling  many  animals  which  are 
assumed  to  be  quite  incapable  of  staying  a  mile 
would  do  so  if  absolute  patience  were  shown  by  their 
riders. 

Failures  with  regard  to  a  horse  getting  a  distance 
he  is  capable  of  are  attributable  to  various  causes, 
chief  of  which  is  lack  of  knowledge  of  pace  ;  and  here 
I  might  perhaps  be  excused  for  putting  in  an  extract 
from  a  speech  made  by  Lord  Durham  at  the  Gimcrack 
Dinner  in  December  1898. 

"  Another  favourite  instruction  was  '  Get 
off  well  and  pull  your  horse  at  the  back  of 
someone  else's  heels.'  No  doubt  this  style  of 
riding  had  caused  numerous  falsely  won  races. 
It  was  for  that  reason  that  he  welcomed  the 
visit  of  Sloan  to  this  country.  Sloan  had 
taught  English  jockeys  that  they  ought  not 
to  pull  their  horses  about  in  races  and  waste 
their  energies.  He  hoped  English  jockeys 
would  pardon  him  for  saying  that  he  con- 
sidered that  excessively  few  of  them  had  any 
tolerable  idea  of  what  pace  meant,  and  they 
seemed  to  ignore  the  very  elementary  rule  that 
the  horse  which  could  cover  the  allotted  dis- 
tance in  the  shortest  time  would  win  the  race. 
He  considered  that  Sloan's  reason  of  success 
over  our  jockeys  was  that  he  was  such  a  good 

284 


LORD  DURHAM'S  SPEECH 

judge  of  pace.  He  submitted  that  Sloan  had 
been  of  immense  advantage  to  them,  simply  by 
teaching  their  jockeys  that  they  had  not  been 
acting  wisely  in  pulling  their  horses  about  as 
they  had." 


285 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

PRACTICAL  JOCKEYSHIP 

"Fees"  of  Old-Time   Jockeys — The  Apprentice  Question — Some  never 
rise  in  Class — Well  balanced  at  Start — Lucien  Lyne's  Class 

I  HAVE  just  read  in  an  English  newspaper  how 
"  Skeets  "  Martin  had  cleverly  won  a  race.  There  is 
an  idea  about  that  Martin  is  much  older  than  he 
really  is.  I  have  seen  it  stated  somewhere  that  he  is 
bordering  on  fifty.  As  a  matter  of  fact  "  Skeets  "  is 
a  year  younger  than  myself.  My  memory  serves  me 
correctly  he  was  born  in  1875.  Wlien  in  America  we 
knew  him  as  "  Harry "  Martin.  I  can  remember 
hearing  about  him  long  before  I  was  twenty.  I  believe 
he  entered  a  racing  stable  when  he  was  about  fifteen. 
It  was  in  California  that  he  first  made  his  appearance 
as  a  winner ;  Mr  David  Gideon,  who  has  been 
mentioned  in  this  book,  was  the  first  to  give  him  his 
chance  and  to  take  him  east  to  New  York.  At  that 
time  Skeets  weighed  about  7-2,  and  it  is  astonishing 
how  he  has  kept  his  weight  down  :  he  is  something 
like  myself  :  our  great  asset  has  been  that  we  have 
not  put  on  flesh.  One  year  before  he  came  to  England 
he  had  twelve  hundred  and  fifty-seven  mounts  and 
two  hundred  and  sixty-nine  winners.  In  that  same 
season  he  had  two  hundred  and  forty-two  seconds 
and  one  hundred  and  eighty-one  thirds.  Remember 
too  that  he  was  only  twenty-two  years  of  age  at  that 
time. 

The  performances  of  other  jockeys  both  before  my 
own  time  and  during  my  career  have  always  been  of 

286 


FEES  OF  OLD-TIME  JOCKEYS 

tremendous  interest  to  me.     I  have  alluded  to  several. 
For  instance  it  was  a  matter  of  history  to  me  that 
nearly  a  century  before  I  came  on  the  scene  public 
subscriptions  to  successful  jockeys  had  been  raised, 
one  rider  having  received  nearly  one  thousand  pounds 
from  his  admirers  for  having  won  the  St  Leger.    There 
seems  to  have  been  no  difficulty  at  that  time  about  a 
jockey   receiving   presents   from   others   outside   the 
owner  of  the  winning  horse  he  had  ridden  !     What 
would  have  been  thought  to-day  of  a  jockey  having 
to  stand  bare-headed  and  thank  his  owner  for  a  present 
of   twenty   pounds    because   he   had    won   the   Two 
Thousand  Guineas  and  One  Thousand  Guineas  in  one 
week?     This    was  what   the    celebrated    John    Day 
received  from  the  Duke  of  Grafton.     Lord  William 
Beresford    was    my    authority    for    this.     However, 
twenty  pounds  was  rather  a  fine  present  in  those  days, 
I  suppose,  for  a  successful  jockey,  if  he  were  a  married 
man,  received  in  addition  to  his  usual  wages  a  present 
of  a  side  of  bacon,  a  bag  of  potatoes,  half  a  cheese  or  a 
barrel  of  home-brewed  ale.     Jockeys  then  were  little 
more   than   grooms.     What   a   difference   it   is   from 
potatoes  to  gold  watches,  half  a  cheese  to  scarf-pins, 
or  a  side  of  bacon  to  gold  cigarette-cases  with  jewelled 
initials.     We  used  to  read  in  America  that  the  great 
George  Fordham  was  the  first  to  ride  successfully  on 
American    horses.     He    had    been    engaged    by    Mr 
Richard  Ten  Broeck,  and  from  what  one  can  hear  did 
extraordinary    things     on     many    moderate    horses 
belonging  to  that  sportsman. 

Good  jockeys  came  in  plenty  long  before  my  period 
of  riding.  Such  men  as  Harry  Griffin  and  Snapper 
Garrison,  also  the  coloured  rider  Willie  Sims  who  was 
five  years  older  than  me.  Fred  Taral  was  eight  years 
my  senior.     Then  there  were  McLaughlin  and  Hay- 

287 


TOD  SLOAN 

ward.  It  appears  that  about  fifty  years  ago,  when 
Mr  Ten  Broeck  first  went  over  to  England,  Gilpatrick, 
who  had  a  reputation  in  America,  was  not  a  success 
in  England  and  was  much  criticised  ;  nevertheless  he 
was  riding  in  America  for  many  years  after  that.  At 
the  same  time  there  were  others,  the  Lairds,  Purdys 
and  Gil  Crane,  who  rode  longer  than  any  other  jockey 
in  my  country,  and  I  believe  more  years  on  the  track 
than  even  John  Osborne.  It  was  Crane  who  rode 
in  that  historic  race  on  the  Long  Island  Union 
Course,  of  five  four-mile  heats,  and  won  on  Black 
Maria. 

Is  the  present  system  of  training  jockeys  a  correct 
one  ?  Tliere  seems  a  good  deal  lacking  in  it.  To 
begin  with  there  should  be  far  more  events  for 
apprentice  jockeys  only,  and  these  affairs  should  not 
be  so  poor  in  interest  as  many  are  to-day.  If  a  boys' 
race  happens  to  be  the  last  on  the  card  many  go  home, 
refusing  to  look  at  it  from  either  a  spectacular  or 
investing  point  of  view.  By  this  kids  are  apt  to  get 
discouraged.  In  France  many  a  good  lad  was  brought 
along  by  the  flat  races  confined  to  apprentices  which 
used  to  be  run  on  the  old  Colombes  course.  There 
such  as  Alec  Carter  and  George  Parfrement  learned 
race  riding  :  full-fledged  flat- race  jockeys  could  not 
ride  there.  Any  race-course  in  England  which  could 
put  occasionally  at  least  one  or  two  events  in  the 
programme  for  apprentice  riders  should  be  specially 
subsidised  by  the  Jockey  Club  for  the  schooling  they 
are  giving.  Jockeys  can  be  made,  although  of  course 
some  are  more  apt  at  picking  it  up  than  others. 
Richard  Wootton  must  be  a  great  teacher  judging 
by  the  number  of  clever  boys  he  has  turned  out. 
However  skilled  a  lad  may  become  by  his  work  at 

288 


THE  APPRENTICE  QUESTION 

home,  he  must  have  practice  on  a  course  to  bring 
him  on. 

• 

The   whole    apprentice    system    is    absolutely   and 
entirely  wrong— according  to  the  views  I  have  held 
for   many   years   past.     Apprentices   should   not    be 
allowed  to  ride  in  regular  jockeys'  races  until  they 
have  graduated  and  become  qualified— in  the  opinion 
of  others— to  be  trusted  with  the  care  of   a  horse 
in  a  serious   race.     Some  of  them  never  would  for 
years,  while  others  after  a  year  or  more  experience 
would  be  promoted  from  the  ranks.     This  apprentice 
question  is  one  of  the  most  important  in  racing,  and, 
writing  as  I  do  in  the  early  spring  of  1915,  I  can  say 
that  there  was  never  a  better  opportunity  for  the 
Jockey  Club  to  make  experiments  by  the  passing  of 
rules  which  could  be  only  temporary,  or  "try-out,"  if 
thought  fit.     It  is  one  of  the  firmest  convictions  of 
my  life  and  I  would  put  it  in  my  dying  Will  and  Testa- 
ment—if anyone  would  heed  me— that  the  curses  of 
racing  nowadays  are  :   first,  the  5  lb.  allowance  ;   and 
next,  the  fact  that  ordinary  apprentices  are  allowed 
to  spoil  many  races  by  riding  with  tried  and  proved 
jockeys.     When  alluding  to  the  Starting  Gate  there 
will  be  more  to  say  on  this  score. 

With  the  greatest  respect  for  the  English  Jockey 
Club  it  might  be  suggested  that  the  whole  system  of 
apprentices'  privileges  should  be  revised.  Apprentices 
should  only  be  allowed  to  ride  in  races  put  in  the  card 
for  them.  There  might  be  a  special  committee  of,  say, 
three  to  notice  how  they  behave  and  what  form  they 
show  in  a  race.  Every  part  of  the  exhibition  should 
be  noted  :  whether  they  keep  their  line,  how  much 
use  they  make  of  a  horse  and  what  they  do  with  their 
whip.     Good  marks  should  be  given  just  as  in  a  school 

T  289 


TOD  SLOAN 

and  a  subsequent  bad  example  wipe  out  the  previous 
records    if    made.     Careful    watching    by    competent 
judges   would    "discover"    good   boys.     The   know- 
ledge that  they  were  being  watched  need  not  neces- 
sarily lead   to   nervousness   nor  stage   fright.     Their 
honesty  would  be  tried  and  proved,  and  altogether 
they  would  want  to  get  to  the  top  of  their  class  to 
obtain  advancement.     Let  them  keep  to  their  class 
until  they  have  proved  their  ability  to  go  with  their 
assumed    betters    and    certainly    more    experienced 
rivals.     Some  boys  might  attain  the  distinction  when 
fourteen  or  fifteen  years  old  ;   others— even  on  a  fair 
trial— might  remain  until  over  twenty-one  to  secure 
the  lifting  up  into  jockey  class  :  this  would  all  depend. 
The    committee    appointed    should    be    from    the 
Jockey  Club  or  gentlemen  of  good  social  class,  so  that 
no  favouritism  was  shown.     While  on  this  topic  I 
would  favour  stipendiary  stewards,  but  only  if  men  of 
a  certain  class  would  accept  the  position  ;    it  would 
be  impossible  with  any  of  those  about  whom  a  doubt 
could  exist.     The  deterioration  of  the  American  Turf 
came  about  to  a  great  extent  by  the  appointment  of 
what  were  called  "  Control  Judges  "  and  "  Paddock 
Judges,"  for  included  among  them  were  many  who 
could  not  be  expected  to  wield  authority  over,  nor 
obtain  the  requisite  respect  from,   those  they  were 
chosen  to  control. 

Another  point  I  have  heard  discussed  is  whether  if 
paid  stewards  were  appointed  they  should  be  placed 
at  various  stages  down  the  course  to  watch  the 
incidents  of  a  race  or  whether  it  would  be  better  for 
a  presumed  trio  to  be  in  a  crow's-nest  above  the 
judges'  box.  With  all  modesty  I  would  suggest  that 
the  latter  would  be  infinitely  the  better  course,  but 
again  with  a  reservation  that  the  whole  idea  of  salaried 

290 


SOME  NEVER  RISE  IN  CLASS 

stewards  would  be  absurd  unless  the  right  men  could 
be  drawn  into  it. 

Alluding  again  to  the  apprentice  question,  with  the 
exception  of  the  starting  gate  the  present  apprentice 
arrangement  has  been  the  worst  enemy  possible  to 
racing.     If  the  idea  mentioned  above  was  carried  out, 
and  apprentices  up  to  a  certain  stage  of  proficiency 
kept  to  their  own  class,  there  would  be  a  pride  of  spirit 
to  encourage  them  to  learn  riding  and  not  play  monkey 
tricks  in  the  saddle.     The  best  way  possible  is  for 
them  to  observe  other  riders  in  their  own  races  and 
take  lessons  from  their  elders  or  the  promoted  who 
were  expected  to  give  good  exhibitions.     During  the 
last   few   years,   judging   from   the   performances    of 
many  fully  licensed  jockeys,  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  that  many  should  be  put  back  to  the  apprentice 
class.     This  is  not  said  in  any  way  because  I  do  not 
happen  to  be  in  the  saddle  myself,  but  because  for 
absolute  incompetency   many  would  take   a   medal. 
They  seem  to  lose  all  idea  of  equihbrium  and  altogether 
may  have  lost  their  nerve  and  any  knowledge  of  pace 
ever  possessed  and  generally  are  no  good  at  all.  Ask  any- 
one in  England,  from  the  Stewards  of  the  Jockey  Club 
downwards,  whether  race  riding  has  deteriorated  and 
they  will  all  agree  that  it  has.     Yet  it  is  possible  for 
riding  to  be  revolutionised  within  the  next  genera- 
tion or  so.     I  would  repeat,  and  this  very  emphatic- 
ally, that,  like  aviation  in  this  year  of  1915,  race  riding 
may  be  only  in  its  infancy  and  what  Harry  Grifhn, 
Lester  Reiff,  Johnny  Reiff,  and  perhaps  myself  have 
done  is  only  the  beginning  of  what  may  be  discovered 
by  those  coming  after  us. 

But  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  battle  with  the 
apprentice  question  and  remove  that  horrible  5  lb. 
allowance  and  let  them  learn  properly.     One  of  the 

291 


TOD  SLOAN 

effects  of  this  present  allowance  business  may  be  that 
a  trainer  has  perhaps  only  two  more  rides  left  for  a 
jockey  before  he  cannot  claim  it.  Those  two  mounts 
which  may  be  winning  ones  are  very  valuable  to  him, 
and  he  may  get  a  big  premium  for  the  services  of  his 
boy.  Of  course  a  topic  of  discussion  which  may  be 
raised  is  how  far  a  boy  should  have  to  stick  to  his 
indentures  of  apprenticeship,  and  whether  when 
promoted  to  a  proper  jockey  his  trainer  should  derive 
the  income  from  his  mounts.  I  leave  this  to  the 
judgment  of  others,  but  there  would  be  an  obvious 
objection  if  a  trainer  ceased  to  have  the  benefit  from 
that  boy's  services.  To  begin  with  there  might  be  the 
question  of  a  contract  where  another  would  withdraw 
patronage  if  a  certain  boy  were  not  available;  and 
then  again  a  trainer  might  retard  an  apprentice's 
progress  so  that  he  should  have  the  benefit  of  his 
services  for  the  full  term  of  years.  As  I  have  said,  it 
would  be  better  for  others  to  answer  this  question. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  gate  too  has  been 
responsible  for  many  faults,  especially  where  appren- 
tices have  not  learned  exactly  what  methods  are  to  be 
adopted.  They  say  the  gate  has  done  wonderful 
things.  Has  it  ?  Were  not  the  starts  just  as  good 
before  with  the  old  flag  start  ?  It  was  in  many  ways 
far  more  satisfactory,  the  children  riding  having  spoilt 

the  new. 

The  gate  has  been  responsible  for  more  inconsistency 
of  form  than  anything  else.  Various  records  will  show 
that  in  the  thousands  of  races  I  have  ridden  in  with 
the  gate  I  have  very  frequently  got  first  away.  Look- 
ing back  the  percentage  is  remarkable.  I  first  became 
accustomed  to  it  in  California  in  1904  ;  in  fact  I  had 
controlled  it  and  was  off  in  front  more  times  than  ever 
before.     Tliere   are   so   few  who   really   know   it.     I 

292 


\ 


WELL  BALANCED  AT  START 

should  include  in  those  with  knowledge  such  riders 
as  Lester  Reiff,  Maher,  George  Stern,  Lucien  Lyne, 
Frank  Wootton,  and  Frank  O'Neill.  Now  what  per- 
centage does  this  give  of  those  riding  within  the  last 
few  years  in  England,  France  and  Belgium  ?  It  has 
been  spoilt  altogether  by  apprentices  when  mixed  in 
with  horsemen.  The  youngsters  do  not  know  what 
action  a  horse  is  in  when  he  "  breaks  "  for  the  start. 
That  is  why  so  many  of  them  are  thrown  right  up  in 
the  saddle,  and  even  lose  their  seats,  not  being  in  any 
way  in  unison  with  the  horse. 

Let  it  be  said  here  too  that  it  is  not  always  the  horse 
which  gets  away  that  can  be  looked  upon  as  a  winner. 
A  well-balanced  horse  getting  away  last  or  nearly  last 
has  frequently  the  "  bulge  "  on  the  others  from 
the  very  beginning.  Look  for  yourself  in  any  race 
meetings  you  may  go  to,  and  the  horse  which  slips 
into  his  stride  when  the  tapes  go  up  will  certainly 
have  to  be  reckoned  with  before  the  finish.  Referring 
too  to  inconsistency  owing  to  inability  at  the  gate,  it 
must  be  remembered  that  a  horse  never  gets  away 
quite  twice  alike.  It  is  not  always  the  boy's  fault 
when  it  is  said  of  him  that  he  has  ridden  a  bad  race  ; 
it  is  often  because  he  is  ignorant  of  the  first  principles 
of  how  to  get  away. 

I  don't  suppose  any  of  us  can  look  for  any  alteration 
in  the  rules  of  racing,  and  it  is  certainly  not  for  me  to 
criticise  them,  but  some  day  the  question  of  the  better- 
ment of  racing  will  have  to  start  on  the  question  of 
apprentices  and  the  gate  ;  and  alterations  made  in 
this  respect  for  these  two  blots  on  what  are  best  for 
the  game.  It  is  no  use  arguing  whether  the  standing 
start  or  the  walk-up  would  be  better.  Let  other 
things  be  settled  first.  The  gentlemen  who  rule  the 
Turf  are  not  jockeys,  nor  will  jockeys  ever  be  stewards, 

293 


TOD  SLOAN 

so  perhaps  what  may  be  considered  expert  opinion — 
and  in  this  others'  views  are  being  reflected — might 
be  worth  more  than  passing  notice.  Time  after  time 
the  sporting  papers  in  England  voice  the  opinion  that 
certain  starts  at  Newmarket  and  elsewhere  have  been 
simply  terrible,  and  that  a  race  has  been  lost  at  the 
post,  there  being  no  possible  opportunity  of  winning. 
Look  at  the  reports  and  see  how  many  times  incom- 
petent youngsters  have  caused  this. 

The  unnecessary  use  of  the  whip  is  something  boys 
have  to  learn  about,  but  I  think  by  the  rules  of  many 
apprentice  races  there  are,  neither  whip  nor  spur  is 
permitted.  With  regard  to  the  latter  I  never  used 
them  for  years  before  ceasing  riding,  looking  upon 
them  as  a  totally  unnecessary  cruelty  on  a  horse,  and 
they  should  be  barred  altogether  from  the  race-course. 
It  is  a  wonder  that  this  topic  has  never  been  taken  up 
by  the  Jockey  Club.  Nobody  who  understands  racing 
has  ever  discussed  it  from  the  cruelty  point  of  view, 
and  it  may  seem  strange  that  a  criticism  should  come 
from  one  to  whom  racing  is  part  of  life.  There  is 
indeed  a  strong  chance  for  anyone  to  take  up  the 
question  of  prohibiting  spurs.  Many  a  good  horse 
has  been  ruined  in  temper  or  courage  by  a  spur,  and 
it  was  a  wonder  to  see  them  in  use  so  long.  Neither 
do  I  believe  they  are  at  all  necessary  for  cross-country 
races.  As  however  I  have  not  sufficient  experience 
in  that  respect  perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  for  others 
to  give  their  views  on  this.  Such  a  lot  could  be  said 
on  the  spur  question. 

The  whip  can  be  of  use  if  properly  applied,  but  at 
the  same  time  it  can  be  a  stopper  to  a  horse.  The 
one  great  advantage  for  any  jockey  who  knows  how 
to  handle  the  whip  is  that  an  animal  can  frequently  be 
kept  straight,  and  anyone  who  knows  anything  about 

294 


LUCIEN  LYNE'S  CLASS 

jockeyship  will  agree  with  me.  Lucien  Lyne,  whom 
I  have  always  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  best  riders  I 
have  ever  seen,  has  had  to  use  spurs  in  Belgium  out  of 
deference  to  public  opinion  on  a  race-course,  and  all 
those  critics  and  "  knockers  "  he  has  been  up  against. 
If  he  brought  a  horse  in  a  loser  without  a  mark  of  the 
spur  on  him  it  could  so  readily  be  alleged  that  he 
hadn't  tried,  whereas  public  opinion  was  so  easily 
stilled  if  the  horse  was  bleeding.  They  would  say 
that  he  "  took  something  out  of  that  one  at  all  events," 
and  they  would  think  they  had  had  a  good  run  for  their 
money. 

Lyne  is  a  great  fellow  to  take  any  tip  although  he 
is  so  well  up  in  his  profession  and  so  well  off.  I 
suppose  we  can  all  learn  a  little  bit  from  others,  and 
many  pointers  which  I  have  been  able  to  give  him  he 
has  always  been  ready  to  take  at  once,  and  in  that 
way  kept  himself  in  touch  with  what  practical  men  or 
lookers-on  can  see  of  the  game.  I  have  always  tried 
to  make  him  take  little  notice  of  something  which 
might  dash  past  him  in  a  race,  and  not  go  after  him 
at  once  ;  and  even  if  a  second  came  with  a  rare  "  bat," 
so  long  as  there  was  plenty  of  time  to  win  a  race  not 
to  be  led  away  in  putting  steam  on  to  catch  him.  It 
has  always  been  a  main  idea  with  me,  and  I  know  that 
many  others  share  it,  that  a  real  race-horse  knows  his 
business  just  as  well  as  a  rider  does,  and  even  a 
moderate  animal  well  encouraged  by  not  being  driven 
too  hard  is  flattered  by  the  attention,  and  by  the  en- 
couragement given  will  put  his  own  bit  in  to  go  after 
those  in  front  of  him.  It  is  the  first  principle  of 
riding,  and  race-horses  thus  left  to  themselves  with  a 
little  hand  riding  will  in  the  majority  of  cases  do  their 
level  best  and  show  the  most  astounding  intelligence 
as  to  what  is  expected  of  them. 

295 


TOD  SLOAN 

Just  another  reference  to  spurs.  When  first  success 
began  to  come  my  way  they  were  put  aside  altogether. 
Some  owners  and  trainers  have  come  to  me  saying, 
"  You  must  use  spurs  on  this  horse  ;  he's  a  very  sluggish 
animal  and  you  won't  get  him  along  unless  you  do 
wear  them."  In  these  instances  I  have  made  the  in- 
variable and  polite  answer  :  "  I'm  afraid  you  will  have 
to  get  someone  else  if  you  insist  upon  the  spur  business, 
but  why  not  let  me  try  my  best  without  them  ?  " 

Just  another  word  too  about  the  "  crouch  "  seat  or 
"  riding  short  "  which  I  have  heard  so  much  discussed. 
This  is  rather  an  important  matter  in  connection  with 
the  "  revolution  "  in  race-riding  of,  say,  twenty  years 
ago.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  think  that  some  of  us 
rode  short ;  in  fact  it  is  a  misconception  altogether. 
In  walking  and  cantering  my  stirrups  were  frequently 
as  long,  in  fact  nearly  always,  as  the  old  school  of 
English  race  riders.  \^^ien  breaking  into  a  canter  it 
was  often  the  same,  but  once  a  race  had  begun,  and 
by  the  strength  of  legs  the  "  crouch  "  assumed,  there 
would  be  an  immediate  difference  in  the  action  of  a 
horse  and  his  speed.  Since  then  others  have  quite 
shortened  the  stirrup — not  with  the  best  results. 
That  is  why  the  term  "  riding  short  "  came  in.  Hands 
and  brain  have  more  to  do  with  successful  race  riding 
than  anything  else. 


296 


CHAPTER  XL 

MORE   SUGGESTIONS 

Mr  Manning  and  my  Weights — Cash  and  Santoi — Parading  a  Mistake 

The  best  starters,  apart  from  Mr  Rowe  who  has  been 
previously  mentioned,  that  I  have  ever  come  in  con- 
tact with  have  been  Mr  C.  J.  Fitzgerald  in  America 
and  Mr  Arthur  Coventry  in  England.  The  former 
was  the  best  all-round  official  ever  known  in  my 
country ;  he  was  the  same  to  everyone — owners, 
trainers  and  jockeys — and  had  a  tremendous  experi- 
ence before  being  put  in  a  greater  position  in  New 
York.  He  was  Canadian  bom,  but  spent  most  of  his 
life  in  the  United  States,  going  there  when  quite  a  boy. 
He  started  as  a  sporting  journalist  and  spent  some 
years  at  this.  He  knew  as  much  or  more  than  the 
next  fellow  on  the  Turf.  He  officiated  at  various 
meetings  in  Canada  and  America.  He  was  so 
thorough  in  all  his  methods,  having  his  own  ideas  and 
carrying  out  what  he  considered  was  best.  He  was 
one  of  the  first  to  favour  the  starting  gate,  and  in  that 
he  might  be  criticised,  but  it  was  more  in  the  spirit 
of  progressiveness  that  he  took  this  up.  One  of  his 
first  ideas  was  that  representations  should  be  made 
to  owners  and  trainers  as  to  the  necessity  of  schooling 
their  horses  to  the  starting  gate.  He  was  quite 
impartial  in  the  way  he  ladled  out  punishment  and 
did  not  bother  about  praise,  for  that  was  not,  to  his 
ideas,  ever  necessary  to  his  duties. 

I  have  spoken  of  Mr  Coventry  and  one  particular 

297 


TOD  SLOAN 

complaint  which  he  made  about  me  at  Sandown  Park. 
Goodness  only  knows  whether  I  shall  ever  come  under 
his  orders  again,  so  what  is  said  may  be  taken  as  really 
meant.  His  ability  in  grasping  a  situation  and 
throwing  his  eyes  over  a  very  big  field  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  powers  he  has.  A  thorough  horse- 
man himself  he  knows  when  the  impossible  cannot  be 
tried  and  would  rather  risk  a  delay  at  the  gate  than 
leave  an  animal,  whatever  it  might  be  or  however 
unruly  it  might  show  itself  before  the  start.  While 
the  greatest  consideration  is  given  to  small  boys  he  can 
be  severe  to  the  older  school,  but  none  of  the  riders  I 
have  seen  ever  like  to  take  a  liberty  with  him  ;  this 
comes  from  both  respect  and  the  desire  to  help  him 
in  difficult  duties.  The  task  of  a  starter  is  so  little 
understood,  by  the  general  public.  "  He's  got  'em 
now,  why  didn't  he  let  them  go,"  they  can  say.  People 
several  furlongs  away  imagine  they  can  see  all  which 
is  taking  place,  but  this  is  one  of  the  greatest  mistakes 
possible.  However  this  does  not  upset  Mr  Coventry, 
who  rides  down  placidly  on  his  pony,  does  what  he 
has  to,  and  returns.  There  was  no  one  madder  than 
he  when  Nunsuch  was  left  for  the  Cambridgeshire 
which  has  been  described  in  a  previous  chapter.  He 
bent  down  and  I  am  sure  that  he  was  cursing  hard  at 
the  misfortune,  but  I  suppose  it  was  only  human  to 
be  particularly  wild  that  the  King's  colours  had  met 
with  a  disaster.  I  watched  the  starter  and  his  furious 
regrets  and  it  took  off  my  attention  from  what  had 
happened  to  myself. 

I  have  met  Mr  Coventry  in  town  on  many  occasions 
and  he  has  always  been  most  kind  and  considerate 
and  with  an  utter  lack  of  snobbishness ;  in  fact  he 
was  altogether  different  to  many  others  who  were  not 
so  well  placed  nor  of  such  good  family.     He  would 

298 


MR  MANNING  AND  MY  WEIGHTS 

stop  and  talk  sometimes  about  racing  but  more 
frequently  of  other  matters.  I  wish  that  I  could  get 
under  his  orders  again. 

This  reminds  me  that  when  I  visited  Ascot  a  few 
years  back  I  ran  across  Mr  Manning,  the  Clerk  of  the 
Scales,  and  it  was  most  charming  of  him  to  encourage 
me  in  the  way  he  did.  I  was  just  outside  the  weighing 
enclosure  and  he  came  behind  me  saying  :  "  Hurry  up, 
Sloan,  and  get  on  your  colours.  I  should  like  to  weigh 
you  out  again." 

Charlie  Wood  was  standing  near  and  he  said  to  Mr 
Manning  :  "I  should  like  to  see  him  going  to  the  post 
too." 

Mr  Manning  added  :  "  That's  right,  and  if  you  know 
anyone,  Charlie,  who  can  do  him  any  good,  don't  you 
forget  what  I  have  said." 

And  Charlie  promised  that  he  would  do  all  he  could. 

Mr  Manning  was  always  very  fair,  having  no 
favourites  when  at  his  work,  usually  sharp  and 
severe  in  his  manner.  Wlien  I  first  came  over  I  could 
not  get  used  to  stones  and  pounds.  He  would  ask 
me  my  weight  and  at  first  I  would  reply  102  lb.  or 
whatever  it  was.  He  gave  me  a  little  time,  but  even 
later  on  it  was  inevitable  for  me  to  give  the  weight  as 
I  had  always  been  accustomed  to  in  America.  "  Will 
you  give  me  your  weight  properly  ?  "  he  would  repeat, 
and  then  I  had  to  do  a  bit  of  lightning  calculating  and 
divide  by  fourteen.  Sometimes  I  was  uneasy  whether 
I  had  said  the  right  figures,  and  would  have  to  borrow 
a  card  from  someone  to  check  what  I  had  given  in, 
but  was  usually  right.  When  I  met  Mr  Manning 
away  from  the  race-course  he  was  always  congenial 
and  friendly,  although  as  I  have  said  he  is  very  sharp 
and  quick  to  the  boys  at  the  scale.  But  that  is  his 
official  manner.     By  the  way,  Mr  Fitzgerald,  of  whom 

299 


TOD   SLOAN 

I  have  spoken,  was  Clerk  of  the  Scales  before  he  came 
to  be  a  starter. 

Speaking  again  of  that  visit  to  Ascot  I  saw  a  lot  of 
my  old  patrons  and  those  I  had  ridden  for,  but 
I  was  diffident  about  going  up  and  speaking  to 
them.  Sir  R.  Waldie  Griffith  sent  Bob  Sherwood  over 
to  tell  me  to  come  and  speak  to  him.  He  asked  me 
where  I  had  been  hiding  myself  and  why  I  hadn't 
come  over  to  him  ;  and  I  explained  that  I  had  been 
shy  about  doing  so.  He  was  extremely  nice  and  tried 
to  encourage  me  with  hopes  that  I  should  "  get  back," 
in  fact  he  was  so  amiable  to  me — and  this  was  backed 
up  by  Sherwood — that  I  feel  quite  certain  were  I  to 
get  my  ticket  again  that  he  would  put  me  up  on  some- 
thing, even  if  I  couldn't  sit  a  horse.  At  all  events  he 
would  give  me  a  try-out.  Tlie  kindness  I  met  with 
that  afternoon  at  Ascot  has  been  one  of  the  gladdest 
experiences  of  recent  years.  It  seemed  funny  to  be 
walking  about  and  not  be  looking  for  my  horse. 

I  was  reminded  by  that  trip  to  Ascot  of  the  one  and 
only  time  my  brother  Cash  rode  in  England  before 
taking  up  an  engagement  in  Russia.  He  had  come 
over  from  America,  it  being  his  first  trip  abroad.  I 
was  anxious  that  he  should  get  a  chance  if  he  could 
where  I  was  doing  so  well,  and  he  came  down  to  Maiden- 
head where  I  was  staying  with  Mr  George  Edwardes 
for  the  Ascot  week.  I  mentioned  my  brother's  name, 
and  Mr  Edwardes  asked  how  he  could  ride.  I  told 
him  that  Cash  had  been  in  the  first  class  in  1893  and 
1894  and  I  had  no  doubt  that  he  would  do  all  right ; 
at  the  same  time  I  didn't  know  that  he  had  been  on  a 
horse  for  some  while.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  plumped 
right  into  England  and  on  to  that  mount  at  Ascot 
without  getting  any  preliminary  work  at  all.  Mr 
Edwardes  then  said  he  would  give  him  a  proper  chance 

300 


CASH  AND  SANTOI 

and  he  should  be  entrusted  with  Santoi,  who  was  a  real 
good  thing.  Cash  was  delighted  of  course,  especially 
when  I  told  him  what  class  of  horse  he  was  to  be  on. 

I  could  see  as  the  hour  of  the  race  drew  near  he  was 
getting  a  bit  nervous.  But  going  down  to  the  post  on 
such  a  course  and  before  such  a  crowd  he  was  to  be 
forgiven  for  having  a  touch  of  stage  fright.  The  worst 
happened  that  was  possible,  and  surely  neither  Cash 
nor  anyone  else  ever  rode  a  worse  race.  When  we 
were  about  five  furlongs  from  home  my  brother  sang 
out  to  me  :  "  He  is  hanging  with  me,"  of  course 
referring  to  the  horse.  "  Tlien  let  him  drop  in  be- 
hind just  for  a  while,"  I  answered.  But  he  couldn't 
do  that  and  gave  a  shocking  exhibition,  as  he  himself 
would  admit.  Santoi  came  again  with  him  but  I  just 
beat  him  a  head.  I  would  have  done  anything  for 
him  to  win  short  of  pulling  my  own  horse,  but  he  ought 
to  have  won  easily.  I  said  to  him,  "  Sorry,  Cash,  I'd 
have  given  anything  to  see  you  win,"  and  his  amiable 
reply  was,  "  ^Yhy  the  hell  didn't  you  let  me  then  ?  " 

Of  course  Mr  George  Edwardes  and  others  were 
furious  at  the  race  being  thrown  away,  but  I  defended 
my  brother  with,  of  course,  just  the  reservation  that 
he  hadn't  found  his  confidence.  If  Cash  had  won 
that  day  I  believe  he  would  have  stayed  in  England 
for  good  instead  of  going  over  to  Russia.  It  was 
fortunate  yet  unlucky  for  him  that  he  had  a  chance 
on  such  a  good  horse.  If  he  had  been  on  a  moderate 
animal  then  not  so  much  attention  would  have  been 
drawn  to  him,  A  lot  of  boys,  however,  have  not 
shaped  so  well  when  they  first  appeared  in  a  new 
country  as  they  did  afterwards.  That  is  why  we 
should  not  be  too  severe  in  our  judgment  on  them 
when  everything  is  new  to  them. 


301 


TOD  SLOAN 

As  several  officials  have  been  mentioned  in  this 
chapter  and  the  starting  gate  discussed  in  the  previous 
one,  there  might  be  just  a  word  or  two  about  the 
system  of  judging.  Photographing  the  finishes  has 
been  tried  in  Belgium  and  the  film  records  kept.  I 
had  a  chance  of  seeing  one  privately  on  one  occasion 
when  it  was  proved  beyond  doubt  that  the  judge's 
verdict  was  incorrect.  Perhaps  the  system  of  the 
film  will  never  come  into  general  use  but  other  things 
could  be  devised  where  a  judge  would  be  in  a  better 
position  to  be  absolutely  correct.  To  begin  with 
every  horse  should  have  his  number  largely  indicated 
on  the  saddle  cloth.  This  would  help  both  the  public 
and  the  official.  I  also  favour  raising  the  height  of 
judges'  boxes  ;  there  would  be  much  more  oppor- 
tunity of  viewing  those  in  front,  especially  on  wide 
courses,  such  for  instance  as  Newmarket.  But  what 
should  be  done  also  is  that  there  should  be  a  screen 
erected  on  one  side  of  the  box  which  should  make  it 
impossible  for  the  judge  to  follow  the  race  with  his 
eye  until  the  horses  were  almost  passing  him,  then  he 
could  take  in  the  first,  second,  third  and  fourth.  As 
it  is  now  a  judge  follows  the  leaders  for  a  long  way  and 
may  get  one  set  of  colours  fixed  in  his  mind  and  not 
get  it  out  of  it  even  by  the  time  the  verdict  has  to  be 
given.  His  duty  is  to  see  the  horses  as  they  pass  the 
post  and  that  is  all.  This  would  be  a  scheme  to  try 
and  see  how  it  worked.  I  am  quite  sure  that  there 
will  be  many  criticisms  of  this  suggestion,  chief  of 
which  may  be  that  the  judge  has  to  look  out  for  foul 
riding  and  give  his  evidence  if  necessary.  My  editor 
reminds  me  that  in  the  Ascot  Gold  Cup,  when  Eider 
and  The  Wliite  Knight  ran  a  dead -heat  and  the 
former  was  disqualified,  the  judge's  evidence  went  a 
great  deal  towards  the  decision  of  the  stewards.     A 

302 


A  Hospital  Garden  Scene 


PARADING  A  MISTAKE 

judge  should  never  be  called  upon  for  anything  like 
this,  his  duty  being  solely  to  decide  how  the  horses 
have  finished  and  nothing  beyond  it.  Looking  for 
other  incidents  must  take  thoughts  off  the  real  work 
an  official  has  to  do,  and  he  should  have  no  more 
to  say  about  the  running  than  a  man  down  town. 
Those  matters  are  for  the  stewards  only.  Of  course 
photographing  a  finish  and  making  the  camera  the 
final  decider  would  be  all  right  in  the  case  of  head  and 
head  results,  but  doesn't  it  strike  you  that  the  public 
would  be  very  impatient  waiting  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
or  twenty  minutes  until  they  could  learn  what  had 
reall}''  happened  ? 

Another  matter  which  should  be  altered — again 
only  according  to  my  humble  judgment — is  the 
parading  on  the  course  which  is  so  customary  before 
big  events.  Parading  round  the  paddock  and  the 
preliminary  canter  should  be  quite  sufficient.  A  good 
horse  is  apt  to  get  his  temper  spoilt  by  being  marched 
down  slowly  behind  others.  Frequently  an  owner 
can  get  permission  for  his  horse  to  be  exempted  from 
that  parade — why  should  this  be  allowed  ?  If  a 
horse  is  a  bad  actor  why  should  a  rattle-brained  brute 
be  given  such  a  chance  ?  If  he  has  not  been  properly 
broken  or  trained  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should 
be  given  a  better  show  than  those  who  know  how  to 
behave.  It  is  unfair  to  a  degree.  Tliere  should  be  no 
excuse  for  and  no  favouring  those  who  are  not  fit 
to  do  as  others  do.  One  can  only  suppose  that 
there  would  be  a  howl  from  the  public  if  the  parade 
before  such  a  race  as  the  Derby  was  done  away 
with,  but  after  all  the  race  is  the  thing  and  those  not 
able  to  go  to  the  paddock  would  have  every  chance  as 
the  field  cantered  past  the  stands  of  seeing  all  the 
runners. 

303 


TOD  SLOAN 

Old  customs  die  very  hard  but,  as  previously  re- 
marked about  riding  being  in  its  infancy,  the  whole 
system  of  conducting  racing  may  be  revolutionised  in 
a  generation  or  two. 


304 


CHAPTER  XLI 

FINIS 

Trying  my  Luck— Friends'  "  Comforting  " 

In  finishing  with  some  explanation  to  the  public,  and 
especially  my  friends— those  whom  I  know  and  those 
whom  I  am  not  personally  on  terms  of  acquaintance 
with — I  should  like  to  refer  to  several  things. 

In  the  first  place  it  must  not  be  stated  that  there 
was  no  idea  of  earning  money  both  from  the  first  edition 
and  subsequent  issues  :  that,  naturally,  is  the  legitimate 
object  of  anyone  who  has  something  to  tell  which 
he  feels  may  be  of  interest.  Real  earnings  in  war- 
time too  can  be  looked  upon  as  "  money  from  home." 
Several  times  lately  I  have  been  asked  to  give  the  story 
of  a  career  full  of  ups  and  downs,  but  just  as  regularly 
I  have  declined  to  do  so,  for  various  reasons,  some  of 
which  may  have  appeared  rather  absurd.  I  suppose 
among  racing  people,  especially  among  jockeys,  there 
should  be  the  discretion  of  silence.  But  I  have  waited 
so  many  years  in  the  hope  that  I  should  be  reinstated. 

The  wish  has  come  several  times  to  explain  away 
what  has  not  been  quite  clear  to  those  who  sat  in  judg- 
ment on  me.  In  this  I  do  not  refer  exactly  to  the 
English  Jockey  Club  and  the  ruling  bodies  in  France 
and  America,  for  there  are  many  thousands  who  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  control  of  the  turf  who  have  had 
a  great  deal  to  say  from  time  to  time  as  to  my  alleged 
weaknesses.  These  I  admit,  but  some  of  these  weak 
points  have  not  been  those  charged  against  me  ;  in 
u  305 


TOD  SLOAN 

fact,  many  shortcomings  which  have  been  alluded  to 
in  these  pages  have  not  been  known  to  my  critics. 

As  I  have  stated,  altogether  too  much  to  my  detri- 
ment has  been  made  out  over  the  Ascot  incident, 
and  what  I  was  supposed  to  have  said  and  done  with 
regard  to  Codoman's  Cambridgeshire.  My  Editor  is 
satisfied  that  certain  unreasonable  ideas  ought  to  be 
altered  by  what  has  been  explained,  but  there  is  more 
to  unburden  myself  of,  and  perhaps  the  best  way  to 
do  this  will  be  to  reproduce  a  letter  I  wrote  to  Mr 
Luckman  when  he  was  sporting  editor  of  The  Daily 
Express  and  "  The  Scout  "  of  that  paper.  He  was 
doing  his  best  at  the  time,  in  a  series  of  articles,  to 
show  cause  why  the  time  had  elapsed  for  any  more 

punishment.  . 

Here  is  a  reproduction  of  that  letter  of  mine  to  him. 

ISth  October  1909. 
Dear  Friend  Luckman  :— There  has  been 
some  discussion  as  to  what  you  have  written 
about  me  which  I  feel  may  be  too  much  in  my 
favour,  for  you  have  carefully  not  specified 
certain  things  which  are  in  the  minds  of  many 
as  to  what  I  have  done  wrong. 

For  instance  :  you  touch  very  lightly  on  the 
score  of  my  making  wagers.  People  have  said 
to  me  :  "  Why  have  you  incriminated  yourself 
so  much  by  admitting  that  you  took  up  betting, 
and  also  not  glossing  over  any  incidents  of  the 
life  you  have  led." 

Those  people  never  stop  to  think  that  after 
the  death  of  Lord  William  Beresford  and  Mr 
Whitney  I  never  had  as  a  serious  adviser  any 
good  powerful  friend  who  would  take  upon 
himself  the  task  of  putting  his  hand  on  my 

306 


Mv  Editor 


TRYING  MY  LUCK 

shoulder  and  counselling  me  what  to  do.  Just 
think  of  the  following  instance  for  a  moment 
and  you  will  better  understand  what  I  mean. 

There  was  a  man  whom  I  considered  a  friend ; 
he  told  me,  afte?'  my  having  done  him  a  very  big 
service,  that  he  had  too  much  respect  for  the 
French  Societe  to  speak  for  me,  but  added : 
"  Poor  little  fellow,  I  am  sincerely  sorry  for  you, 
because  I  believe  you  to  be  the  most  honest 
and  straightforward  of  all  riders  I  have  ever 
known." 

A  few  years  after  this,  when  he  was  pro- 
moted to  be  a  steward  of  the  French  Jockey 
Club,  everybody  in  Paris  thought :  "  Now  Sloan 
is  sure  to  get  his  licence  in  France."  All  my 
friends  insisted  on  me  going  to  see  the  new 
steward  at  3  Rue  Scribe.  They  said  to  me: 
"  Don't  be  backward  about  it.  Get  a  hustle  on 
you  ;  it  is  all  for  your  own  good.  He'll  see 
you  all  right."  I  thought  it  over  and  over  and 
was  very  reluctant  to  take  the  advice  given,  but 
they  persisted,  in  fact  argued  me  stiff  about  it. 
Finally  it  was  no  use  holding  back  any  longer, 
and  practically  I  was  kicked  off — quite  in  a 
good-natured  way — to  take  the  chance  with 
the  magnate.  Even  when  I  was  in  the  court- 
yard and  going  up  the  staircase  I  nearly  turned 
back,  for  I  considered  that  I  knew  him  better 
than  my  friends  did,  and  I  made  the  mistake — 
a  very  serious  one — of  not  going  on  my  own 
judgment.     I  have  regretted  it  ever  since. 

He  saw  me  all  right,  but  made  me  feel  like  a 
worm.  The  first  thing  he  told  me  was  that  I 
should  never  have  fought  the  "Societe"  (the 
French  ruling  body)  and  that  he  could  not  help 

307 


TOD  SLOAN 

me.  "  \^Tiy  on  earth  did  you  ever  do  it  ?  " 
he  went  on  to  ask  me.  I  rephed :  "  Because, 
Count,  you,  who  should  have  advised  me,  and 
what  you  thought  then  say  now,  never  uttered 
a  syllable  as  to  what  I  should  have  done. 
It  would  have  only  required  that  for  me  to  have 
dropped  the  case  straight  away,  and  now  you 
ask  me  why  I  was  such  a  fool  as  to  do  this,  that 
and  the  other.  What  vou  did  do  was  to  turn 
your  back  on  me,  saying  you  were  sorry  for  me, 
although  you  knew  all  the  time  that  I  was  as 
innocent  of  wrong-doing  as  He  who  built  the 
world.  No  one  attempted  to  advise  me;  in 
fact  I  stood  alone,  a  persecuted  man  without 
the  slightest  help  from  anyone  except  Maitre 
Labori,  and  he  told  me  that  I  should  surely 
win  but  also  that  I  should  surely  lose  by  winning. 
He  was  right." 

There  are  many  other  little  matters  I  could 
mention  as  to  those  who  were  real  good  friends 
to  me  in  England  and  France — that  is,  cheery 
companions,  but  who  were  powerless  to  move 
one  log  along  to  get  me  my  licence.  Some  of 
them,  good-hearted  sportsmen,  may  have  in 
some  way  done  me  more  harm  than  good,  for 
when  a  fellow  is  up  against  it  those  opposed  to 
him  are  always  looking  for  reasons  why  the 
punishment  should  be  continued,  and  take  a 
yellow- jaundiced  view  of  everything  which  is 
done  in  private  life.  Surely  there  must  be 
enough  justice  left  to  allow  me  to  follow  up  my 
calling.  Perhaps  they  all  think  I  could  not 
ride !     I   will   not    say   anything    about    this. 

Sincerely, 

J.  T.  Sloan. 
308 


FRIENDS'  COMFORTING 

In  the  pages  of  the  book  I  have  told  how  failure  after 
failure  has  followed  my  repeated  attempts  to  obtain  a 
licence.     This  year  (1915)  another  trial  was  made.     I 
addressed   a  humble  letter  to  the  Stewards   of  the 
Jockey  Club,  but  after  waiting  for  three  months  there 
IS  still  no  reply.     The  book  would  have  been  completed 
m  any  case,  for  I  have  told  a  plain,  unvarnished  tale, 
not  attempting  to  whitewash  myself,  nor  posing  as 
the  hly-white,  for  those  who  go  racing  know  a  good 
many  conditions  of  life.     But  as  the  French  steward 
just  quoted  said,  I  was  "  straightforward  "  and  honest 
as  a  jockey :  I  liked  winning  too  much.     Wliy,  there- 
fore, the  apparently  permanent  condemned  position  *?   I 
might  not  be  able  to  ride,  but  I  have  relatives  and 
friends  who  would  think  of  me  in  the  present  and  in 
later  years  so  thoroughly  differently  if  I  had  the  stigma 
removed  from  me.     The  chance  of  making  a  living 
too  at  something  I  could  do  better  than  anything  else 
cannot  be  overlooked  in  the  many  hours  of  anxiety. 

Friends  comfort  me  by  saying :  "  Oh !  you'll  be  all 
right  some  day."     But  when  will  that  some  day  arrive  *? 
Will  it  ever  ?     One  after  the  other  of  my  old  friends 
have  gone— my  patrons  and  intimates.     I  suppose  I 
must  think  I  am  getting  towards  middle  age  but— 
here  the  "  personal  "  is  inevitable  again— I  feel  as  fit 
as  ever  to  do  anything.     Men  have  been  successful 
when  far  older  than  I ;  in  fact,  there  are  one  or  two 
riding  to-day.     And   what  about  the  veteran   John 
Osborne,  who  retired  only  two  or  three  seasons  back 
and  still  rides  gallops  ?     My  weight  has  not  increased' 
my  muscles  are  as  strong,  while  my  vision  and  nerve 
are  unimpaired.     There  can  surely  be  no  "  but  "  on 
the  score  of  age-limit. 

But    again— and    finally  :    why    this    book  *?     To 
explain  myself,  to  put  the  swom-to-be-true  story  of 

309 


TOD  SLOAN 

previously  distorted  incidents.  My  one  and  only  Turf 
misdemeanour  was  betting— nothing  else  during  my 
whole  career.  I  admitted  this  to  the  Stewards  in  1900. 
I  have  not  retracted  in  these  pages,  but  I  have  repented 
that  I  was  ever  such  a  fool.  It  cut  me  off  at  the  age 
of  twenty- five.  Having  "  done  "  fifteen  years  I  can 
only  pray  that  some  day,  in  a  spirit  of  clemency,  that 
mercy  will  be  shown  to  a  transgressor — who  would 
never  transgress  again,  even  to  the  extent  of  a  fiver. 

This  is  not  canting  or  whining,  nor  a  question  of 
"  The  devil  a  saint  would  be,"  etc.,  but  an  appeal  and 
full  explanation  to  those  who  can  reprieve  me  ;  and 
in  addition  a  recital  of  certain  incidents  to  reheve 
the  monotony  of  "too  much  Tod  Sloan."  I  speak 
sincerely  when  I  say  that  I  would  gladly  obliterate 
myself  if  only  my  official  obliteration  could  be  cancelled. 


310 


Webster  Family  Libran/  of  Veterinary  Medicine 
Cummings  School  of  Veterinany  Medicine  at 
Tufts  Univerolty 
200  Westboro  Road 
North  Grafton,  MA  01536 


